


Catch and Release

by IronPagoda



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Male Slash, Underwater Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 35,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPagoda/pseuds/IronPagoda
Summary: I was inspired by the mermaid tail video, and the idea of Ethan as a merman pining for Mark is something I'd really love to write about
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 124
Kudos: 460





	1. See You Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, enjoy! I plan on updating regularly, but on a not-so-regular schedule, but otherwise, let me know what you think =)  
> 

Would he be on the shore again?

It was all he could think about.

That same man, strong and handsome, fishing along the shoreline and just within sight so that he could be seen by what lurked in the water.  
“Lurk” was a rough term, Ethan had been in the area for a while. The ocean was calmer around the shore, and the country wasn’t so aggressive with their fishing policies that it was an uninhabitable place for him.

His kind didn’t stay near the surface as long as he usually did, but they definitely didn’t have as good a reason.  
A quick flick of his tail sent him sailing through the water, his form barely revealed from the murky water above. The early morning light shone down on the pale green scales on his lower half, his long tail moving against the water with ease. Toned arms directed him towards his familiar hangout, a small cluster of rocks jutting from the ocean, edges smoothed by years of waves wearing them down.

His perch had yet to be warmed by the early sun, but he knew they would be a comfortable temperature when the sun was at its peak. He’d been drawn to the area by the spring weather, which had made the surrounding ocean pleasant and inviting. But the winter, long and cold as it was, could not keep him away. The humans called this place Daehanmingug. Whatever that meant. 

But for the last four months, Ethan had called it home.

Pulling his upper half from the water, he peeked over the rocky outline, watching the man pull back his fishing rod and send the lure flying out into the blue. Ethan cupped a hand around his mouth, drawing in a quick breath of air and sending out a short burst of elated notes towards him.  
He noticed immediately, Ethan could see the smile form on his strong jaw before disappearing to whistle the tune back to him. The man settled himself on his homemade dock, looking intently out at the ocean and awaiting a response.  
This was their game. They would call to each other, meaningless notes and wordless tunes shared between two men who had never met, and still, every morning, Ethan was there. 

His fins swirled around the disrupted surface tension of the water in excited twitches as he called louder, making the notes higher and more complicated. Every time, he was answered with a near perfect mirroring, the whistled notes carried far across the water and making Ethan’s heart leap into his throat.  
Without fail, they met every morning as the orange light of day set fire to the ocean. The Pacific, his mother had once called it. There were many oceans, none of which he had personally named, but to him there was only one. His home.

He’d memorized specific areas, places where it was warm and shallow, or others where the water ran deep enough to protect him. Ethan was considered young by his kind, but he’d lived longer than most humans, and long enough to have circumnavigated the globe twice. Not that he was counting.  
Soon enough, their game was over. He ducked down in the water as his other half was approached by two men he’d seen frequently. Friends, coworkers, perhaps both. Ethan had watched their shared boat from a distance as the trio made regular trips out into deeper waters for more successful fishing trips.  
“Don’t go,” he murmured into the empty air. “Don’t go.”

The weather had been growing unpredictable and uncomfortably warm over the last week, the ingredients for a terrible storm. He watched the three men talk amongst themselves lazily, eyes intent on the shortest of them. It didn’t matter that he was short, his human had impressive muscular structure from years of dedicated, hard work. Something Ethan found admirable, amongst other things. 

His nose was brushing against the watery surface, his body allowing him to slip down further. A rogue wave caught him off guard, and he curled his tail up suddenly to avoid being seen. When he popped up to the surface again, the friends were treading away from the dock and back around the house. Ethan sighed heavily, running an anxious hand over the gills on his neck. Not today, thank heavens.

The man on the surface sent a long tune towards the swimmer, and Ethan was happy to reply. There wasn’t much more, sadly, but as the human turned to leave he bent down to place something on the dock. 

He didn’t wait for anyone to appear, he merely packed up his pole and left.  
As much time as Ethan had spent with him, he could never bear to show himself.

Humans lived such short, complicated lives. They swam, but could only breathe air. They feasted on the creatures of the ocean, but also ones with legs. They built metal monsters that cut through the water and struck fear into Ethan’s heart.  
But he could share his love with no other.

His tail instinctively curled around the pole of the dock, holding him in place while he inspected his new treasure. It was a wooden statue of a thin fish, with scales carved carefully into the surface and the body made from the driftwood along the shore. It was small enough to fit in his hand, his pale fingers mapping every minute detail of his gift.

He loved it. Squirreling it away in the gap between his scales, he himself had a gift for his human. It was easy enough to find lost artifacts where it was deeper, but finding something worthy of his human’s attention was always a challenge. He had gotten very lucky today, and placed a rusted, but expensive looking pocket watch on the dock. The chain had snapped off, and the hands didn’t work, obviously, but if someone were to give it a little bit of love and attention, it would look quite nice. He was sure.  
Ethan cast a mournful look at the man’s home before swishing away. He wanted to be with him, to hold him, to show him how the water fared much better than a noisy life on land. He wanted to run his fingers through the rich, black locks that always looked the perfect amount of windswept.  
He wanted to make him happy.

The man lived alone in his small cabin by the sea. He fished regularly, and would disappear every now and again, but was always back by sundown, with only him returning. Ethan had seen regular visits from a similar looking elderly woman and man, presumably his mother and brother. Never a father.

They had had small picnics by the shore, talking and smiling and probably reminiscing about when they were younger. Ethan was sure he was an adorable child. There were probably even pictures of him, small squares of print that presented a window into the past. Ethan hoped he’d leave one for him one day.

He played with the wooden statue more back at his nest, a little alcove in the seafloor a safe distance from the commercial docks and a safe spot to hide his little treasures. Some of the older carvings were damaged by his salt water living conditions, but Ethan had taken the time to draw them into the rock walls around him. Rough carvings where had scratched just deep enough into the surface to leave a clear indent of what had once been. 

Ethan would have to go hunting for food soon, snatching up unsuspecting fish and collecting sea grass to satiate the ever-present hunger; for now, he began adding another drawing to his wall.


	2. Rough Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old memories, a lesson in language, and rough weather ahead

Some days were harder than others.

Sometimes the fish were sparse and slippery, and the water flowed with a bitter chill.   
He’d woken up in an off mood, hungry, cramped, and feeling irritable. Not even the lucky catch of a fat trout could lift his spirits, although he looked forward to his morning ritual. He sliced through the water with ease, his slim frame like a knife through the ocean current, despite the upheaval in the waves. Twisting around, he watched his reflection ripple and distort from the surface as he moved. The green in his scales was dull today, but dozens of shades of the color still shimmered in the light. 

His brown hair was mirrored back at him as merely a splatter, but he could tell it was getting long again. It wasn’t any sort of custom to keep it short within his people, but Ethan didn’t like it floating around in his face. Today would be a dedicated ‘self-care’ day-Hair, scale preening, tooth scraping, the works. 

When he was little, his mother would comb through his hair with the remnants of a large conch shell that had belonged to her grandfather. She’d tell soothing stories while rhythmically working the comb through his baby fine locks, smoothing them down and working her fingers through the tough knots. Ethan had adored the routine, and wondered if he’d ever get to do the same with someone else.

He missed her the most. He missed his whole family, actually, but it was his mother that he wondered about often. They were all back in his home colony, just off the Mid-Northern continent that lay long and fat through the Atlantic. He hadn’t been back there in years.

It was after his eldest brother had declared his mate that Ethan had left, he recalled. Not out of spite, she was a fine woman for his brother, but Ethan was tired of being alone. There was no one else in his colony that he could even remotely imagine spending the rest of his life with. It bothered him constantly, and the fear of growing old and alone spurred him to move on and look elsewhere. With no luck.

Until, of course, he’d stumbled upon the man who stood currently on his dock.  
He was wearing his pack today, a sure sign he was leaving for town. He had a hand perpendicular to his brow and was squinting out onto the horizon. Ethan popped up in time to hear the fading last few notes, and called back desperately. Don’t leave so soon, he thought. 

But with a remorseful smile, his human was waving his hand and turning his back. With a pout, Ethan watched him until he disappeared, missing him more and more.   
Everyday it hurt to see him leave, to feel that miserable emptiness return and hollow out his chest, making his heart feel that much smaller. He slicked back the damp hair in his face, letting the soft breeze track the rivlets of water running along his jaw. Ethan waited until the hunger pains echoed in his ribs before swimming away, still longing to watch and wait. 

After a quick meal, Ethan returned to his little home and settled in for a day of grooming. He used the ribs of the fish to work quickly through the tangles in his hair, not bothering with any sort of proper techniques. It wasn’t like the person he wanted to impress would ever see him anyways.   
When he grew tired of the motion, he swam out towards his favorite hunting spot and was able to snatch up a little cleaning shrimp for his scales. While his new friend was hard at work, Ethan picked his teeth clean with a loose bone until they felt clear of debris. He ran his tongue over the points, sharpened from years of gnawing on bones and feasting on rough plant growth that grew in the water.

He would probably think that’s gross.

The thought sent a pang of anxiety up his elongated spine. He grabbed loosely at his tail, hugging the end and the fins to his chest as a security measure. It had scared off the shrimp, but Ethan was too lost in his head to notice. What he thinks I’m disgusting? What if he’s terrified of me?

He had to believe it wasn’t true. Why else would the man wait for him every morning? Why else would exchange gifts and presents created with the care and meaning he did? Ethan was sick of focusing on him, and he chose to distract himself with a rare pastime of him. 

On the edge of a private home, where the flowering trees hung over the water, he had come across a large family at play in the spring. As the weather had crept towards winter, they were outside less, but his courage had grown slowly over those days. Soon enough he was creeping closer to the shore line, the top of his head obscured by the trees. 

Lucky was the day, and the children were bundled in thick jackets and colorful mittens. He listened intently to the conversations, following along awkwardly, but with determination. Quick to learn, Ethan was known for his attentiveness since a young age, and he wanted to learn the language so so badly. Not like you’d ever need to use it, came a bitter thought. 

The vocal cords he possessed were mostly for above water communication, but that was rare. His kind mostly spoke in whistles, squeaks, and, in private conversations, modified sign language. But the young humans that ran around on the grass, completely missing his presence, were chattering and yelling like he had rarely heard. He caught snippets of unfamiliar words, and vowed to commit every syllable to memory.

His lesson in language was disrupted by who appeared to be their mother. She called out to them, beckoning and maternal. “Storm” he recognized.   
Ethan took that as his cue to leave as well. He wanted to go back to his perch, and see if maybe his human was there as well.

As his brown eyes looked over the rocky surface, he was! 

But, he wasn’t alone.

His friends were there, but their body language suggested their presence was not friendly. They towered over his human, their arms gesturing wildly and voices raised. The man was not backing down, and although his tone was even, his voice was a deep steel.

They argued back and forth, while Ethan watched with great intent. His heart beat faster with every bitten off syllable, his fins swishing back and forth in rapid succession. There were words thrown back and forth, things like “money”, and “work”, and “lazy”. 

The tallest of his friends separated the two, pushing them apart to stand between them. His human looked upset at the words now being spoken, but after an electric pause, he nodded along.

Their motions were hurried now, the anxiety in their muscle structure making them jittery and stiff. Ethan could sense it from the shore, along with a dark pit of worry freezing the water around him. 

“No no no,” he hissed, watching the man grab his gear and follow the others. “Don’t do it, don’t go.”

He didn’t wait for them to disappear around the house. Arms pulling him through the water and his tail propelling him faster, Ethan couldn’t even think to be afraid of being so close to the shore. Turbulent waves nearly sent him flying into the open air, and he flung himself downwards, but the glittering curve of his tail was revealed in the water.

Curving around the outcropping of the island, he was already behind the battered red truck speeding off towards the docks. 

He dove down, a solid stream of bubbles pouring from his gills as he swam. Faster than ever, his lean arms cut through the water and he pushed himself harder than ever. He was easily pushing 40 km/h, but that wasn’t enough to keep up. 

The humans were only slowed by traffic, giving Ethan enough time to find himself in the maze of the marina before they did. Most sane people had already docked and headed inland. But not his human. His bullheaded, ridiculous human that he couldn’t bear to see swept in the storm. The boats were bobbing and cutting into the water, nearly knocking Ethan in the head. He twisted sharply around the sharp curves of the hull, his fins steering him around and away from the rusted chains holding onto the anchors.

The exposed wood of the Joh-eun Yeoja was faintly familiar to his hands, but he had no time to reminisce. He fumbled around, looking for loose boards, nails, any possible thing he could pull apart. He sent an angry shriek out into the crowded water when he could find nothing. Ethan dove for the chain next. Slick with algae and age, the damn thing refused to give in to him, the ship still moored in its position. He tried biting into it, but that was a failure as well. Desperate more than ever, he swallowed his fear and spun off to the engine. The heavy machinery terrified him, the horrible grinding of the gears made him feel hopelessly small. The feet on the dock were growing louder though, he had no other option. His hands wavered over the mass of metal. His upper half had to be revealed to reach it, and Ethan had never felt so exposed. They were so close, he just had to do it. A wire, a bolt, take something and prevent them from going out into the ocean. 

Failure overcame him when the human chattering reached the boat and approached the engine. Instinct took over and dragged him down, and Ethan could only watch with wide eyes as the engine turned over, and took the boat with it away from the pier.

He was running on pure adrenaline now. And fear, so much fear.

Further and further he followed them, losing sight of the shoreline, his vision tunneling on the boat as it lurched into the open ocean. A solid stream of bubbles flowed from his gills as his heart hammered in his chest. He could feel the strain in his muscles burn all the way to his fins, but there was no chance he was slowing down. Faster, faster, come on! He urged himself on, panicked and desperate. 

His tail was in a constant roll, flexing and twisting beneath the angered waves. They were growing bigger, and choppier, pushing the boat around like a small toy. Dark clouds drowned out the shape of the boat for a moment, but an electric pulse of lighting revealed a perfect image of the figure from beneath the waves.

It was burned into Ethan’s mind. 

He had no chance of keeping visuals on the boat from underwater, and he slowed a fraction to try and see above. It was just as futile, punishing rain cut into his skin, and all he could make out was a dark blur ahead bobbing dangerously. Ethan dove down again to push himself towards the vessel. He was almost lucky, under the storm he was now gaining on the Joh-eun Yeoja, which had become stuck between the violent barrage of waves. 

A burst of noise escaped him when he darted away from his path to avoid a fishing net thrown hastily into the water. He swished away the bubbles in his face, trying in vain to see where the boat went. Ethan risked another view from the surface, squinting in the darkness and attempting to focus on anything other than the roar of the wind.

It wasn’t the boat that had grown so close that caught his eye.

It was the figure suddenly flung from the deck and into the sea.


	3. Down to the Quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th everyone!! May this chapter destroy you as much as it did me, haha

Ethan didn’t realize how fast he was going until he’d crashed into the limp figure at full force.

They spun out in the water, Ethan barely holding onto his wrist as they spiraled around. Air! Ethan screamed at himself, He needs air!

With his lean arms under the man’s armpits, he dragged him up to the surface, every pull upwards a frenzied attempt in his overworked system. He could see the faint circle of light above him, just a fraction less dark than the deadly sea. He pushed the human into the open air, trying to act as buoy as the pair were thrown around weightlessly in the saltwater. It was stinging Ethan’s eyes, but the tears that rolled down his face were genuine. 

“Mark!” He sobbed, feeling the dead weight of his head leaning back on Ethan’s shoulder. “Mark, don’t go, please don’t go!” 

One hand held tight around his chest, feeling his shoulder blades dig into the pained area of his chest. He refused to loosen his grip, he would not let go. His other hand was still wrapped under his arm, doing everything to keep him afloat. Ethan cried out in pain as the weight threatened to pull them under, angry waves lapping at his neck and rain cutting into the both of them. “Come on, come on-”

A mountain of a wave crashed down upon them, judgement clear and decisive. Ethan could only see it for a second, a rolling cliff of inky blackness in his peripherals.  
Mark was torn from his grasp, the both of them shoved down into the abyss.

His arms were limp, outstretched towards the surface as the water pulled at his heavy clothes. The soft hair framing his face was disturbed by the few tiny bubbles that escaped his parted mouth. This was Ethan’s nightmare.

He shot towards him, arm outstretched and name on his lips.

His bones nearly cut through his skin when something grabbed tight around his tail and sent a sharp gasp from him. He looked back in horror, seeing the remnants of the net swirled tight around him, and the buoy tethering him in place.

He whipped back to Mark, forcing his arm forwards another inch. Muffled screaming did nothing to wake the man, and Ethan was stuck in the water, arm reaching for the man sinking further into the final darkness.

And then, someone above showed great pity for the merman.

His fingers, long as they were, could just barely lace around the still wrist of his human. Ethan pulled him close, feeling time around them slow down to a sluggish pace. He rested his hands on the edges of his wide jaw, bringing him closer than he had ever dreamed and pressing his lips against Mark’s. He was cold, heartbreakingly cold, but Ethan pushed as much oxygen as he could into the man he loved too much to let go. When he pulled back, nothing had changed. An ugly grimace of pain overtook him, watching the deceptively relaxed expression on the other man cease to move.

An experimental shift of his tail told him it was futile to try and drag him towards the surface. They were a hopeless distance from the watery grave that rested its hands on Mark’s shoulders. He shook him, pleas muffled by the freezing water around them. His nails dug into the back of his head, anything to elicit a sound, a movement, a sign of life for God’s sake.

Nothing changed.

Ethan’s hands stiffened and refused to move, letting the man he had yearned for deeply drift away. The ocean stole his tears, but they poured more into the emptiness that he could ever have imagined. Why him? Why couldn’t he have given every last fucking piece of his soul to someone he wouldn’t have to lose? Why did he have to die like this, never even having met him?

Ethan dug his nails into the net, blinded by anger and loss. He only served to entangle himself further, the material flowing up his arms and waist and infuriating him more. Every muscle was traced by his skin, pulled taught as he cried and fought against the thing that had ruined his life. The storm seemed so far away now, its presence only punctuated by the soft crash of the monstrous waves above, and the jolt of lightning that lit up his scales with a muted glitter.  
Ethan ceased his fighting.   
His eyes flicked over the keratin formations, the pounding in his head picking up.

He dug into a scale, not bothering to find any that were already loose. He pried it away from his flesh, clenching his teeth at the needle of pain that stuck deep into his nerves. His arm snapped out again, grabbing Mark with force and yanking him forwards. Ethan opened his mouth gently with one hand, and the other slipped the scale under his tongue. He held Mark tight against him, letting his limp head come to lay on Ethan’s chest, and praying that the beat of his heart would wake him soon. 

Old stories could be true. They were all he had. He held the man’s mouth shut, breathing heavy and whispering prayers into the ocean that he had to believe would be heard. Emptiness was surrounding them. The deep blue encompassing them felt more alone than he could handle, he was just one person holding fast to someone he barely knew, and yet loved with all his heart. 

Ethan hadn’t realized his eyes were squeezed shut until a soft glow poked at the stars on the inside of his eye lids. He blinked away the darkness, lost in what he was now seeing. In his arms, the man’s olive skin was shining like the setting sun, soft and warm and bright. Rainbow scales grew from his legs and tethered them together, shredding the material that had once bound them separately. Ethan was utterly mesmerized, tracing the new gills that cut through the once unbroken skin on his neck. The skin was pink and new, freshly exposed and teaming with small bubbles of proof of life. 

He hugged him tighter, throwing his arms around his neck and letting relief wash over them both. He pressed kisses to every inch of his face, smoothing back the soft hair framing his face and pressing his forehead against his.   
Together. 

Finally.

But not safe yet. The storm was still raging, and the water was not a temperature conducive to healing. Ethan had work to do yet, but joy was drawing out the pain in his overworked body. He’s not dead! He wanted to scream, He’s not dead! 

The ocean could not claim him today.  
____________________________________________________________  
Mark had gone through a blender.

He was sure of it.

Nothing else could explain the shredded feeling in his bones. Head to toe, he was sore and battered, he couldn’t even feel his legs. His ribs weighed a hundred pounds, making every breath a struggle. It added to the pounding in his head, overtaking his vision and blurring the surrounding area. He couldn’t even work up the feeling to be happy to be alive.

But then, someone was running their fingers through his hair. They were washing his head and neck with warm water and adjusting what must have been a pillow under his neck to a more comfortable position. The air felt thick, clogging his throat and garbling his words. “Wh-where...wh-who..” His words dissolved into pained mumbles, and the hands above began massaging his temples in soothing circles. As he relaxed into the motions, someone closed his eyes. He let the warmth overtake him, succumbing to the darkness and detaching himself from the pain of consciousness.


	4. All Will be Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody died! Woohoo!

Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Every breath was a relief to his aching heart, and he could stay like this forever. 

Near the sea floor, an unknown distance from any land, he’d been able to find an underwater vent. They were abundant near the island, giving him a general idea of where they were. It was constantly pumping warm water and creating an inviting atmosphere for luminescent algae down where it was safer. 

Safe, and quiet, and perfect.

In the dim light, his eyes mapped every aspect of Mark’s face. The strong jaw he’d seen a million times from a million miles away was perfectly symmetrical, coming to almost a point at his chin. He traced a finger up his nose, which was button shaped and adorable. The motion made his eyes flutter weakly, and Ethan was quick to lull him back to sleep. 

The process seemed to be taking a while. Although, Ethan wasn’t exact on how long it was supposed to take. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed after he’d finally chewed his way through that damn net. The whole thing in general was a fairy tale his mother used to tell him when he was little, about how mermaids can be born or created. It had seemed so impossible. Until he had witnessed it with his own eyes.

Mark had slept on and off for about a day, but time was difficult to tell when they were this deep. He’d stir occasionally, confused and hurting, but Ethan was there for him. He’d sing, comb through his hair with his fingers, and press soft kisses to his forehead. Every last thing he’d only ever dreamed of doing. 

Tracing the widows peak at the top of his forehead, Ethan really didn’t want to leave him. But he was hungry, and Mark needed as much nourishment as he could get. They naturally filtered water through their gills, so that wasn’t a necessity, giving Ethan a small chance at peace of mind. He tucked Mark deeper into the sand, covering his body in the thick sediment to hide him well. They were the predators of the ocean, but weak and delirious meant a good meal for something just as big. They.

He loved being able to say them. Because now Mark was with him, he was like him! No more would they have to be apart, he could finally be the missing piece on Ethan’s life. They could hunt together, build a nest together, he could meet Ethan’s colony and his family.  
His family…

His hands stalled momentarily while grabbing at the bottom feeders. Mark had a family. And friends. Who now all thought he was dead. They would search the water for him with broken hearts, missing him as much as Ethan did. But now, even more.

You didn’t do it on purpose. He reminded himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. It wasn’t selfish. You didn’t have another option. You didn’t.

I didn’t. He shook away the thoughts, plaguing him like a dark cloud in his mind. 

His vision adapted to the dark, revealing the fish he was eager to catch. Without the threat of humans, they were plenty in numbers and ripe for the catch. If it weren’t for the appeal of natural light and the sights above, Ethan could spend the rest of his life on the ocean floor. He’d grown up there, after all.

He needed to take Mark there, it would be safer there rather than risking his recuperation in unfamiliar territory. He would have to learn everything Ethan had already known for years, and although Ethan was willing, he wasn’t much of a teacher. First things first, he needs to learn to hunt. He frowned, watching the fish slip out of his fingers and into a hole on the sand. Stupid fish. Settling for what he had, Ethan made his way back to camp. Swift, but lazy, his muscles had healed nicely during his time of rest with Mark, and he hoped the other man could say the same.

Speaking of which.

Ethan flicked over to him with haste, panicked at the struggle his once-human was experiencing. Mark was flailing around on his back, an awkward stream of bubbles escaping his mouth as he tried in vain to speak. Dodging a wild arm, Ethan hovered above him and pushed away the thick wisps of hair from his face. He smiled warmly, soothingly, wishing he could speak to him and let him know he was okay. How he was safe. 

Settling for the former, Ethan met his eyes. The almond eyes that stared back were scared and wide, his pinprick pupils struggling to make out the details of the pale face that hovered just out of his field of vision. 

When his struggling slowed, Ethan thought he was falling back into unconsciousness. But then a calloused hand came to rest on his cheek. Rough and probing, Mark’s clumsy attempt at filling in the blurry details. Ethan leaned into the touch, letting his fingers slip over the narrow plains of his face. He whistled, low and sweet to him, like before.

His dark brows furrowed, lines growing on his forehead. Ethan could see the gears of recognition turning in his head. He smiled wider, repeating the noise as more of a coo. His thumbs brushed over the ends of his wrinkled brows. You’re so cute, he wanted to tell him, bringing his face closer and brushing the end of his nose against Mark’s.

Drawing back, Ethan made quick work of their meal. He peeled away at the rough exterior and dug his fingers into the nutritious flesh. Mark was still on his back, periodically squinting his eyes and watching the bubbles float from his nose. Ethan bit back a smile. He was just like the younglings, no idea yet how to breathe out through their gills and looking just as adorable.

He helped Mark sit up by letting his arm fall down to his lower back, where he may or may not have purposely let his fingers drift lower amongst the well defined muscle groups. Bringing the food to his lips, Mark reached for it himself, and Ethan let his hand fall away. He watched him chew experimentally, then reach out blindly for more. Ethan handed him piece after piece, forgetting to save any for himself while completely enamored. 

When it was gone, he took Mark’s outstretched hand in his. He was staring at Ethan, a mixture of bewilderment and something awfully pitiful. He tried to speak, resulting in a face-full of bubbles and a grating squeak. Ethan gave him a soft look, sympathetic for his plight.As much as he wanted to stay where they were, where it was warm and safe, Mark needed answers. It was finally time for the big reveal, and Ethan wasn’t sure if he was ready or not.

His hand moved to form a strong grip on his wrist. He pushed off the seafloor with his good arm, moving slowly to the top with Mark floating limply beside him. They needed to take it slow, Ethan was used to the pressure but it wasn’t all about him anymore. Taking it too fast could cause some damage, so he took his time. He would regularly look back at Mark, adoring the way his tail would twitch instinctively with the passing motion of the water. He knows what to do, it’s all instinct. Slowly, the darkness faded below them, no longer an ominous presence. The water was still, and calm, its other inhabitants flitting away from the pair and leaving them be. 

The moon formed an inviting circle of light on the water, and Ethan pulled them towards it. They broke the surface without grace, Mark was sputtering and coughing up the excess water from his gills, and grappling onto Ethan while trying to rub away the salt from his eyes. When he’d calmed enough, Ethan forced the breathless words from his clogged throat. 

“Hi.”

Oh God. Awkward. He was sure the embarrassed flush was lighting up his pale face in the moonlight. Mark seemed to take it well, appearing as lost for words as he. 

“Am…” He took in a nervous breath, his eyes glued on Ethan. “Am I….Did I die?”

“No! No, you’re not dead….you’re...um...different. Now.”

“Different.” Mark let the words fall flat from his mouth. He looked down, blinking incredulously at the mirrored tails swishing back and forth under the water. His breathing became stuttered and shallow. He brought his hand up to feel at the gills on his neck, his eyes growing wide enough to fall out of his head. “I...I-I was dead-”

“No no no no no-” Ethan stammered, clasping a hand over the experimental grip Mark had on his own neck. “Not dead. I promise.”

“You did this?” 

He didn’t sound angry. More...surprised. With a hint of disbelief and something else he couldn’t place. Ethan smiled shyly, absolutely positive his face was neon red.

“Yea.”

He was regretting the whole communication thing when Mark lunged forward and pulled Ethan into his arms. He held on clumsily, but firm, wrapping the smaller man in his grasp and placing a hand on the back of his head. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “Thank you.”

Ethan buried his face in the crook of his neck, hiding the relieved tears rolling from his eyes. His hands fumbled briefly for purchase on his water slicked back before finding purchase and holding fast. He sniffled quietly, breathing in the scent of him. 

Mark pulled him away to rest a shaky hand on his jaw. “It’s you...It’s actually you. I mean...I-I had no idea...that you...that you were…”

“Yea.”

Mark began giggling, and Ethan lavished the sound. He was laughing at him, yes, but Ethan had made him happy. He let his head fall forward onto Ethan’s bony clavicle. His hair tickled his chin, and Ethan buried his nose in the damp locks. He could feel Mark’s breath on his chest, feeling the way he had to work himself up to the words. “I’m fucking dreaming.

“No,” Ethan murmured, “No, this is real.”

The large hands on Ethan’s shoulders tightened, and he could hear Mark take in a deep breath. “What do we do now? Where do we even go?”

“We could go to my home. You’d like it there.”

Lifting his head, Mark gave Ethan a soft look. “You have a home? Like, with houses?”

“Yeah.” His eyes crinkled, hand still resting against Mark’s head. “With houses. You could even meet my family.”

“Where do you live?”

Ethan looked up at the stars, eyes following the twinkling patterns until he saw something familiar. His arm raised slowly out of the water, pointing East. “That way, towards the Atlantic.”

Whistling through his teeth, Mark let go of Ethan long enough to run a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s….wow….that’s a pretty long way to swim.”

“How do you think I got here?” He was tugging at Mark’s hand, urging him to move with him. “It’s easy. I’ll show you.” His hips moved in time with his tail, a gratefulness Mark would have to learn. In the meantime, he held tight to Ethan and let him pull him through the bobbing water. 

“It’s just occurred to me I don’t even know your name”

Shrugging, Ethan looked back with wistfulness painted across his face. “It’s Ethan.”


	5. A Message of Thanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! No new chapter just yet, but I just wanted to give a thank you to everyone. I was really nervous to share this, but am so happy everyone on this site is so nice and helpful. You all have been so welcoming, and I wanted to share a nice thanks😊   
> -Also, please enjoy the quick doodle, haha

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NZzjoqARjBWaR9Kv04pU3hznLk_coXRf/view?usp=sharing>


	6. First Things First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have finally figured out how to italicize! Woohoo! But also, don't be fooled by the nice day....

Swimming was a struggle, but catching fish was even harder. 

Ethan, in one of his brighter moments, had found a shallow grotto that made for a lovely training bay. They hadn’t put much distance behind them, and had barely slept through the night, but things would go smoother if Ethan didn’t have to hunt for two. Mark was also insistent that he could do _ just fine _ on his own, and he was happy to oblige.

He was resting casually against the sun-warmed rocks, letting the high sun ignite the water and rest on the tanned skin of his pupil. Mark was currently making an awful lot of splashing for someone who had been told to be sneaky, but he was nothing if not determined. Ethan watched him plunge his hands down into the water, struggling to keep an even float on the surface. He then slammed his face down into the water, sinking slowly downward.

“It’s not about force!” Ethan called out to him, holding back his laughter. “You just use your tail!”

“I’ve never had a tail before!” Mark pushed the hair from his eyes with the heel of his palm, throwing an unamused look towards the onlooker. He rubbed at the bags under his eyes before spotting the fish again, silvery, stupid, and swimming within reach. Diving down after it, he was soon to realize his tail would not cooperate. The rainbow-colored nuisance stuck awkwardly up out of the water before falling backwards in a ‘timber!’ type fashion.

When he broke the surface, empty-handed, he narrowed his eyes at the apparent humor found in his teacher. Ethan was overtaken with laughter, clapping his hands together and throwing his head back with abandon. 

“I have dense bones!” Mark scowled, glaring at the stupid fish and his own stupid tail.

Slipping back into the water, Ethan moved towards him with a smooth motion. Only the tip of his fins distrubed the water, flicking droplets into the afternoon air. He came right up to Mark, ignoring the man’s obvious reaction to the intrusion of his personal space. “Okay, First things first, I’ll teach you how to swim.”

He scoffed indignantly. “I  _ know _ how to swim.”

“I mean like a fish”

“But you’re-” Mark muttered ‘we’ under his breath, “-aren’t fish.”

“Okay, fine, but like you said-thick bones.” Ethan poked lightly at his bicep. “Good to fight, bad in the sea.”

“So?”

“Come on.” Ethan tugged at his wrist, bringing him down into the water. Mark brought his tail up to his chest, fighting the instinct to kick his legs. He watched Ethan signal for him to pay attention before using his arms to gain speed. Circling Mark, Ethan slowly rolled his tail, starting at the waist and ending just before the fins. Easy enough. Ethan swiveled around to face him, raising his arms out to indicate that Mark follow him to the surface. “See what I did?” He chirped, sounding hopeful despite the unsure look he was receiving. 

“Why’s the water so cold?” Mark said with a whine.

“It’s the ocean. Now c’mon! Try it!”

“But it’s cold!”

Ethan stared at him pointedly until the man retreated downwards. Trying his best, Mark began pushing himself forwards with his arms. Sadly, the back-and-forth motion was repeated by his lower half, his tail scrunching up towards his body and then sticking straight out in a useless fashion. 

Shaking his head, Ethan couldn’t resist a chuckle when he popped up. “Not like that, like a dolphin!”

“You said like a fish!”

“Fish don’t swim like that either.” He let out a short breath through his nose, trying to remember if there was anything he had been taught in a way he could duplicate. “Okay, okay. Hang on.”

He dove down, leaving Mark to stew and watch. He dipped his head down to catch a glimpse of the slimmer merman chase after a fish, grabbing onto it easily. Ethan sunk his teeth into the rear fins of the creature before releasing it in Mark’s direction. 

Spurred on by the rapid “Go!” motion from Ethan, he did his best to roll his tail and gain speed towards the weakened prey. There was a fair amount of splashing, and he did bring his tail towards his chest again, but the half-formed roll he was able to complete gave more than enough speed to hunt down the fish and catch his prize with success.

He waved it around for Ethan to see, who was giving him a thumbs up. And then some other hand motion he didn’t recognize. “What now?” He asked when they met in the open air. 

“You gotta bite it!”

“What!?”

“Yeah! It’s food!”

Looking down at the injured, wriggling critter in his grasp, Mark was having second thoughts. A raw, half-alive fish flaring its gills was  _ not  _ something he would ever consider eating.  _ Come on Mark-This is what you do now. All or nothing. Sink or swim, it’s this or starvation. _ He swallowed down the nagging voice, squeezed his eyes shut, and bit down as hard as he could.

Unappealing would have been a good word to describe the sensation. What caught him off guard was how easily his teeth went through the exterior. They sliced through like the scales were nonexistent, quick and refined points unlike he’d ever known. He didn’t have long to dwell on the modification before Ethan was (once again) dragging him off. The pair rested against the rocks while Ethan instructed him on how to clear away the bones and inedible pieces. That part didn’t bother him as much, he had been a fisherman after all. He just wished his hands would stop trembling.

They practiced more for another hour, with Mark catching the injured fish Ethan sent his way. If he hadn’t been working so hard, it would have been humiliating. By the time they’d eaten their fill, a decent pile of bones sat beside them. “You did really good today,” Ethan remarked, running his finger over the empty spot in a row of his scales. 

“I’ll have to get better if we’re gonna get anywhere soon.” Mark stared out into the sea, the emptiness striking a lonely chord within him.

“You will!”

“Thanks.” Mark fought through the silence, trying to sift through the hundreds of questions he still had. “What’s it like? You know, your home.”

“It’s nice.” With a faint smile, Ethan’s eyes flicked over to Mark. “There’s more magma vents, so the water isn’t cold,” he teased. “It’s a pretty big colony, considering the ones I’ve come across. Lots of families and decent hunting grounds. There’s so many people I want you to meet.”

“Do you have a family?”

“Well, yeah. I had to come from somewhere.”

“Like...an egg?”

_ “What?” _

“Wha-Like fish!”

“No!” Ethan howled, his laugh high and giggly. “I was  _ born,  _ stupid! Like a mammal!”

“Platypus are mammals and they have eggs!” Mark crossed his arms, letting the wet curls of hair hang in his eyes. The laughter ceased, and genuine confusion filled in the lines on Ethan’s face.

“What’s a platypus?”

The buck of stupidity was passed between them as questions were hurtled back and forth. Ethan wanted to know more about the strange animals that prowled the land, while Mark was more interested in the specifics in the whole ‘underground mermaid colony’ thing. When the iridescent orange light of the setting sun caught their attention, Ethan signaled Mark to take off. 

This time, Mark held onto Ethan. His grip was hesitant, but he couldn’t say he hated the feeling of being close to him. Watching the man practically fly through the water was absolutely mesmerizing. The way the late sunlight mirrored off his pale skin was something he couldn’t take his eyes off of. All the songs, all the gifts, it was only ever him. Someone he’d never thought he would meet, and yet here they were.

Night was better for traveling, but when Ethan noticed Mark slipping away he figured it was time for rest. It had been an exhausting day for his other half, and Ethan wouldn’t mind a break either. Guiding him down deeper, prickles of skin rolled across their skin as the water ran colder the further he swam towards the sea bed. Ethan made quick work of the sea grass that lay thick along the dark floor of the ocean. He hands worked nimbly to braid the strands together into a large bowl shape, something he’d done hundreds of times before. The motion was soothing and repetitive, and by the time he was done with the cool stalks he was ready for sleep. 

Mark needed coaxing, however. It was obvious it wasn’t natural for him to sleep in an environment so cold and uninviting. Ethan gently guided him down next to him, shifting his tail around to lay a thin layer of sand on the both of them. He wanted to throw his arms around Mark’s torso, to cuddle close and rest his head against his strong shoulders. To feel his warmth and hear his heartbeat. Second-guessing himself, Ethan chose to sleep with his back pressed against Mark’s, trying to have a little bit of self control. He couldn’t rush something like this and risk driving him away. To understand what Mark was going through would be near impossible, so Ethan did his best to give the man some space.

In the pressing darkness, Mark was having a moment. The doubts were more present in the dark, unseen and yet so terrifying. They were waiting in the back of mind like sharks, growing closer, growing bigger. It was easier when they were constantly moving. Swimming and hunting took up so much of the day, it made it easy to push down the ever-present guilt about his family. The doubts had been with him since the beginning, since the night he should have died in that ocean. He couldn’t catch anything, he could barely even  _ swim.  _ All he had was Ethan, but all of the 31 years of memories on the surface were completely fucking obliterated.

No one would ever find his body. There would be no one to mourn at the funeral.

The haunting ache in his ribs that threatened to close up his throat and make him want to scream. He hadn’t felt pain this specific since his dad-

_ No _ .

Mark gave a minute shake of his head, trying to physically shake the thought from him. He couldn’t go there, not now. Not after the fact that his entire life AND anatomy had changed and thrust him into an entirely different world. 

Mark couldn’t stay here. Sleep wasn’t going to come to him anyways. 

As gingerly as he could, Mark propped himself up onto his elbows. His vision was poor in the dark, but it couldn’t stop him. He pushed off from the sand before letting his tail twitch and roll uselessly in the dark. Directions were difficult, but he knew one:  _ Up. _

Staying down here, without sunlight or warmth or human comfort, he was going to lose his mind.


	7. All The Things You Forgot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things bubble over...Also! Happy Sunday!

What woke Ethan was the cold.

He was naturally sensitive to any change in his environment, but the warmth that carried from the other sleeping figure had taken its time to fade. Leaving Ethan to wake groggy and confused. 

And alone.

His body was moving faster than his brain was. The panic jumping from nerve to nerve before finally reaching his brain and sending panicked bouts of adrenaline crashing through him.  _ Oh God, oh my God. He’s gone.  _

Ethan sent a short bout of whistles into the dark, again and again he called out to him.  _ You didn’t teach him how to whistle,  _ came a thought, sending him spiraling further. He sped off, circling the nest and then again and again, each time increasing his perimeter. Mark had no idea how to navigate with the stars, he had no survival instincts, and Ethan had done nothing to protect him.  _ What if something had taken off with him? _

A muffled curse escaped his mouth, the sound carried away in the bubbles of oxygen rising to the surface. With his hands tensed around the back of his neck, Ethan watched with watery eyes as they too swam away from him. 

_ To the surface.  _ He fired off like a rocket, ignoring the intense pressure in his ears.  _ How could you lose him?  _ Ethan tried to drown out the thoughts of the rush of water, kicking his tail out and mirroring the movement with his arms. 

His face slammed through the water tension, breaking with only force. “Mark!” He cried out, spinning around in the water and finally feeling the hot rush of tears. He was utterly alone in the night air, it was only him, circling the same spot uselessly and crying out with no answer.

Diving back down, the tears were whisked away by the thin ocean foam. He whistled out louder, long and mournful. His chest caved inwards, and he hurled his pain into the ocean with a screeching call.

* * *

Further out, Mark heard the strange noise.

Physically, he tried to respond with a ‘Huh?’, but it came out as more of a squeak. His hands flew to his gills, feeling a strange vibration in his throat. The surprise forced out another squeak, slightly longer and much louder. 

_ Fucking weird,  _ he thought bitterly.  _ Why the hell can’t I just speak? _

* * *

When Ethan sucked in another breath, he heard it.

Ever so faint, the noise reached him. 

Rationalization be damned, he followed the sound. With the speed he was reaching, his hair was slicked straight back to his head. The burn of sadness had grown and shifted into something momentarily less painful in his chest.  _ Hope. _

And there it was.

At first, he had almost missed it. That little blob in the distance, a few feet under the surface and swimming with the skill of an electrocuted fish. 

_ Mark.  _

Ethan called out to him, a relieved smile breaking the anguish marring his smooth features. He didn’t look back, but maybe he couldn’t hear him yet. Calling out continuously, Ethan grew closer and closer, the details around his once-human becoming clearer. But he still did not acknowledge. 

His eyebrows knitted together, a worrying knot in his thoughts threaded with anger.  _ Why would he leave? Where is he even going? _ A hand clasped around Mark’s forearm, and he jerked away from the touch. Ethan pulled his arm back, holding it like he’d been injured.

Mark whirled around, his face twisted into a venomous expression. When he bared his teeth, Ethan shrank back in fear. The larger man suddenly pushed towards the open air, not waiting for the other to follow.

The words caught in his throat, and Ethan began babbling in the empty air. “Where  _ were  _ you? What happened? Are you okay-”

“I can’t do it! Okay!?”

Ethan tried to steel his face, although the waver in his voice gave him away. “W-what?”

“This!” Mark screamed. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and-” He ducked his head down, a ugly sob torn from his throat. “I want to go home.”

Ethan moved a little closer, tilting his head to try and meet his eyes. “Mark,” he began softly, but was cut off.

_ “Stop!  _ Just  _ stop!”  _ Splashing at him, Mark gestured angrily at himself. “You did this to me! Don’t… don’t touch me, don’t  _ fucking  _ touch me!”

“Mark.” Ethan grit his teeth, holding back his tears. 

He just glared at him, taking in a sharp breath. “I should. Have. Died.”

_ “No-” _

“Then what!? What now?! I am losing my mind, there’s  _ nothing  _ here and I don’t even know where we are!” He whipped his head around in the vast blue desert. “I need  _ land _ . I need trees and dirt and-”

“There’s an island!” Ethan blurted out.

Chest heaving, Mark bore his lightless brown eyes into him. “What did you say?”

“Near here. It’s...it’s uh, small, but I was going to take us there tomorrow-”

“We go  _ now.” _

Nodding mutely, Ethan avoided looking him in the eyes as he swam to the front of their tiny caravan. He swam slowly, the negative emotions weighing him down. Fear, hurt, guilt, all them swimming around in his gut and poisoning his mind.  Whenever he looked back to see if Mark was following, the man would specifically avoid his gaze. It sliced through Ethan’s heart, and he had to manually breathe to get any oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t want Mark to see how hurt he was anyways.

The island was little more than a clump of sand and thick weeds, but Mark acted like they’d found gold. He outpaced Ethan in a frenzy, army crawling through the surf and flopping down onto the sand. 

Timidly, Ethan followed him. He pulled himself next to the man and arranged himself carefully on land. It had been a while since he’d been this far on land, even if it was only a few feet. He needed to be near Mark, however frightening he was being. He didn’t deserve to be alone.

Ethan was laying on his back, looking up at the stars from a new position. There was no buoyancy from the water, and he could see them clearer than ever. He focused on the stars, and not on the uncomfortable silence between them, or that weird lump against his side.  _ Oh wait.  _ Sitting up, Ethan made a small discovery that was ultimately overshadowed by the sniffle he heard beside him. Mark was still laying on his stomach, head resting on his arms, and was now trembling in the night air.

“You okay?” He asked softly, scooting closer.

_ “No.” _

The surf washed over them in repetitive motions, sweeping away Mark’s tears with the cool water. Ethan watched the water lap at his face a few times before he turned his head towards Ethan. The sour look on his face had lost its potency, although he was far from okay.

As he watched him from the corner of his eye, Ethan pulled the stashed object from the underside of his scales. He’d forgotten it was even there, tucked away as a memory from an earlier time. 

Wordlessly, he let the wooden statue sit in the sand, inches from Mark’s face. The nicks and grooves in the sides of the fish were clearer to him now, and he lifted his head to take it in his own hands. 

His elbows dug into the sediment as he held it, tearing up again. He thumbed over the scales he had carved himself, letting the tears drip down his nose. “Where’d you get this?” He mumbled.

“From you”

“No-” Mark sighed, a quiet huff under his breath, “-How did you bring this with you?”

“There’s little pockets under your scales sometimes. I kinda forgot I still had it.” Ethan listened to the rhythmic hiccups from him, tracing patterns in the sand while talking lowly. “It still means a lot to me, you know.”

Mark didn’t respond, so Ethan kept talking, his voice almost a whisper. “I kept all of them. And, you know, they’d get destroyed after a while, so I’d draw them. All over the rocks….they just meant so much to me.” He shut his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line and drawing in a careful take of air. “I’m so sorry, Mark. I-I tried, I really did, but…-” Ethan paused, afraid his voice would crack, “there was just so much happening and... I didn’t want that, not for you. And I’m sorry, I’m really really sorry.”

He looked over to Mark, who was tearful as he was. Ethan reached a hand out, running it along the dip of his spine and tracing his shoulder blades. “I don’t know what to do, but  _ *sniff*  _ I’m here for you, if you still want me around.”

His brown eyes flicked to the corner of his vision. He looked back up at Ethan, and gave a mute nod. A faint smile flickered across Ethan’s face before he brushed it away, along with a trail of snot, with the back of his hand. 

Laying down next to him, he shifted to face Mark, continuing to move his hand up and down his back. In the frigid moonlight, the ocean felt warm in contrast. The surf running up the beach soothed the chill bringing goosebumps to the both of them, and the sand held a residual warmth that invited them to close their eyes.


	8. Just Get Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've only got each other, and isn't that what really matters?

Sleep couldn’t keep its hold on Ethan for long. He woke with the rise of the sun, and a dry mouth. He was still facing Mark, and he watched him longingly while using his arms as a pillow. He looked like he was at peace, the stress of the previous day melted away with the morning sun. 

His dark eyebrow began to twitch, and without thinking, Ethan thumbed over it lightly with a free hand. Mark began to stir immediately, and Ethan drew his arm back quickly. He didn’t seem to notice, only focusing on trying to get himself propped up. He struggled to sit comfortably in the sand before flopping on his back and watching the lightening sky. 

Ethan could feel the residual sadness radiating off him, and gave him a soft look. “You okay?”

“I dunno,” he rasped, his voice thick with the forgotten promise of sleep.

“Are you hungry?”

Mark was quiet. His breathing stuttered as he tried to speak. “Does your family know....Have you been able to talk to them at all? Get a message to them, anything?”

Shrugging, Ethan’s eyes traced over the mounds of sand forming mountains and craters in the beach. “Maybe if I see someone I know. But, the ocean’s a big place. I...I guess they just...just know. I hope.”

Ethan almost broke when he saw him blink away the tears.

“My dad was a fisherman too.” Mark readjusted himself in the sand, eyes trained on the blanket of orange and blue above him. His hands were clasped tightly together, and Ethan wished he could hold one of them. “But they found him. And they-” he turned away, shifting his jaw, “-they won’t find me. They won’t even know.”

This time, when Ethan reached out to form a light hold on his arm, Mark didn’t pull away. He moved his thumb in small circles around the smooth skin, making repetitive patterns. “I know.”

He watched the dark brows on Mark’s forehead nearly meet in the middle. “What did you say?”

Although Mark’s tone was rich with incredulousness, Ethan continued. “I know how you feel." He huffed, a solemn laugh clipped by the overcoming emotion. "We can't exactly communicate long distance. There's a whole colony, and sometimes...Sometimes people...they _leave_ and then-then they just don't-” Ethan’s words died in his throat. His head felt several pounds heavier, and it was all he could do to look up at Mark with a pitiful expression. 

And then, Mark was reaching out to him.

He let his hands fall on Ethan’s sides and pulled him close. His arms wrapped securely around the small frame, grabbing on tight. Ethan wiggled around to get comfortably, and eventually let his head rest against Mark’s bicep. He could feel the vibrations of his sigh reverberate through him, and he melted into the warm hug.

Mark’s hand worked its way up into the brown hair softened by salt water and dry for the first time in a while. His fingers, thick as they were, worked nimbly through the knots until it was smooth fluffy. The motion had Ethan’s eyes fluttering, the touch sweet and gentle.

The moment was ruined by the low growl of Mark’s stomach, and it had Ethan burying his face in his chest and giggling. He shifted away, a half-smile on his tired features. “Let’s go get some food.”

Through the surf, they made their way back into the sea, Mark holding Ethan’s wrist and practicing the movements of his tail as he was led further away from the security of land. The thought sent a pang on anxiety through him, and he gave a firm squeeze on Ethan’s wrist to try and ground himself. Ethan’s fingers twisted around his own, repeating the gesture with a lingering softness.

Breakfast was a quiet affair between them. They didn’t surface for much of the day, but Ethan kept a short distance between them and the air, just in case. Mark tried to focus on the sights while they moved, as few as there were. He spotted some fish here and there, but they avoided him wisely. He hadn’t seen any sharks, which was a comforting feeling. The ocean felt strangely empty, bringing on a strange sense of agoraphobia. Mark did his best to focus on Ethan, the way his fingers fit around his wrist, the way he thought Mark didn’t notice how he would look back at him ever so slightly to check on him. The way Ethan wholeheartedly wanted to be with him. Next to him, touching him, it was like Ethan was the one who couldn’t believe he was real. And Mark didn’t know what to do about the electric sensation of his hands on him.

His swimming had improved slightly, and he could at least make it so Ethan wasn’t dragging him everywhere; it would be a while before he could match his pace. The sun was at its brightest soon enough, but Mark could feel his eyes drooping in the flow of the water. He could feel Ethan tug him to the side with a sudden switch of direction. His nerves were alight when he realized he was being taken down deeper towards an underwater outcropping of rock. He tugged on Ethan’s arm as if to say  _ Where are we going? _

Ethan responded with a raised index finger.  _ Hold on _ , he mouthed. 

Down deeper, Ethan’s eyes scanned the rocks for an opening. The little patch of sand and grass was one landmark, and the next one should be... _ Ah!  _ He smiled to himself.  _ There you are.  _

It took some maneuvering to get Mark’s thicker body through the jutting entrance. It didn’t help that he had tensed up considerably either, swimming like a stiff plank of wood into the cave system. This was the last milestone for a while before an empty stretch, they were going to need plenty of rest.

There was warm water coming from somewhere that helped Mark relax, if only a fraction. The pressing darkness and rough walls weren’t making anything easy. Before Mark could stress himself further, Ethan was tugging him up into a pocket of air. “Check it out,” he whispered in the dark, “Cool, huh?”

“Um, yeah”

“I wanted to get some rest before tonight, I need stars to see where we’re going”

“I’m not sure I can sleep”

“Here-” Ethan placed guiding hands just above his heart, “-Try this.”

Mark was pliant enough to be moved onto his back. The cavern was barely big enough for him, his fins brushing against the walls. Ethan squeezed next to him, on his back as well and breathing in the stale air. “Better?”

“I’m really not used to floating.” He hated the way he was constantly bobbing in the water. And the way the water bounced off the rocks made it so there was no peace and quiet. He missed his warm bed, the hand-made quilt that he always folded in the morning, the way the birds-

“Wanna hear a bedtime story?” Ethan was only teasing, but Mark was starting to feel frustratingly exhausted. 

“Sure, whatever.”

Ethan let a low giggle lead the first few lines of his story. “Um, okay, so once there was this bird...no, a  _ crab,  _ and he liked to try and grab, um, really big sharks, but...uh, the sharks would….wait. Wait, It might have been dolphins-”

“Oh my  _ God.”  _ Mark rubbed at his eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark and listening to Ethan’s nervous laughter bounce around the walls. “Just...just forget it.”

“No, no, come on! It’s a really good one-”

“You don’t even know what it’s about!”

“I do! I...I just...but I can’t-”

“You don’t even know what birds are!”

“Do to!”

“When have you  _ ever  _ even seen a bird? Like, up close.”

“My mom showed me some seagulls once.” Ethan caught his breath while he recalled the memory.

“Were you scared?”

“No!”

“Where’d you see them at?”

“We went to the surface, away from the colony…”

_ She woke me up early, and could still hold me in both arms. It’s hard to remember being that small. She had the biggest smile, and said she had a surprise for me. _

“There were, like, a bunch of rocks that seals would sit on. They liked them cause they were always warm, I think…”

_ He’d asked about the seals, he remembered being fascinated with them when he was little. She’d shaken her head, scooping him up and swimming up with a strong pace that had him grinning.  _

“My mom wouldn’t even tell me where we were going. It wasn’t a special day or anything, she just pulled me along with her and we started swimming…”

_ They rarely went this far up. He was scared, but watching her blonde hair float in the rays of sun daring to reach out into the water was mesmerizing. He loved the way she smiled to the sun, as if she herself had lifted it just for him.  _

“We popped up out of the water and she had to keep telling me to be quiet…”

_ She never lost patience with him. He was chattering away in the open air, a rare treat, but the finger she tapped against her lips had him lowering his volume. _

“And there were these  _ huge  _ seagulls sitting, like, four feet away. They were doing...I don’t know, bird stuff, but it was like they didn’t even see us…”

_ They looked big enough to take off with him. He’d tucked himself tighter in his mom’s arms as she rested her chin in his head, whispering to him. About what they were, and how they could fly. It was a foreign concept to him, the idea that those strange looking things could fly up in the air. _

“We watched them for a while and then my mom started splashing them. She scared the crap out of them, it was actually kinda funny. They take off, and it was like, the coolest thing I’d ever seen…”

_ ‘Wanna see them fly?’ She’d asked him, to which he had nodded eagerly. They took off from her splashing, and Ethan watched with an open mouth as they took off. Soon, they were perfectly white shapes against the blue plains, soaring away from their audience.  _

“I’d never really seen them up close like that,” he said, soon realizing his listener was no longer awake. With a weary, half-formed smile, Ethan pressed a chaste kiss to his temple before letting himself slip away too.

  
  



	9. The Iron Divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan loses focus....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Some good and bad news, good news is-I don't have coronavirus and can go back to work! Bad news is, I'm working now, and may not be as prompt when updating. But! Now I can share cute stories from the vet clinic, like Luigi, the one-eyed sphinx kitten who loved to hear me whistle while I work and would purr as loud as he could 😍

_ No. God, please, no. _

“Mark,” Ethan whispered, “Wake up, c’mon, we gotta get going.”

“Jus’.....five more minutes.” He tried to roll over, resulting in him lying face down in the water. Despite the water in his ears, he could still hear Ethan’s stupid laughter.  _ I’m too tired for this shit. _

Wiggling underneath him, Ethan braved his grouchy expression to brush his nose against his before tugging him down under. Mark let himself be pulled along limply, eyes fluttering closed in the darkness. His vision was grainy, and dim, but he knew a month ago he couldn’t see even that well in the pitch black of the ocean floor. He focused on Ethan’s tail, the color of his scales pitifully lackluster without sunlight. With even a dapple of sun across the slick surface, they were mesmerizing. A million shades of green, and a warm smile to go with it. Mark hummed groggily, the image of Ethan with that upturned look and chin pointed to the sun dragging him back to sleep.

But then, real Ethan was pulling him to the surface, where the moon was raised high and cold. He rubbed the saltwater away from his eyes, mumbling about the burning sensation. When he opened them, he was greeted by a different smile. His teeth were hiding behind the pleased look worn down by fatigue. Mark glanced at the sky and momentarily forgot his exhaustion. 

It was like their own personal snow globe, but each fleck of snow was replaced by a pinprick of pure light. Of what he could see, there had to be millions-no,  _ billions.  _ The darkness of space between them was enriched to an intense shade of pure black. Some small, some big, every one of them captured in the watery reflection of his eyes. Ethan smiled a little brighter at his expression, and although he hated to tear him away, the night didn’t last as long as he liked. He tugged on Mark’s fingers with a loose grip.

Mark looked back at him, and the silver strings of the moonlight accentuated the heavy bags under his eyes.  _ I can’t force him to swim like this.  _ Ethan worried his cheek between his teeth.  _ He’ll be miserable. _

There was a sliver of an idea forming. It would slow him down, but not as much as dragging Mark along by one hand.  _ It could work,  _ he thought hopefully,  _ it could work. _ He moved behind Mark, hooking his arms under his armpits. “What’re you doing?” Mark turned his head to stare at him, a single brow raised.

“Hang on, I wanna try something.” Ethan pushed him down with his own weight before swimming forward with an experimental twist of his tail.

Mark’s arms were still awkwardly shoved up, with his shoulders raised and hands defensively gripping Ethan’s forearms. His head was bent forward at a weird angle with that bony little chest pressed against the back of him. He squirmed in the grip, unsure of  _ why  _ this was happening to him and  _ why  _ Ethan was so insistent to carry him like this.

The energy spent keeping him tense and alert was quick and fleeting. He paused, only to catch his breath, really, and let his arms relax momentarily. That’s when the feeling overcame him.

The warmth of another person, pressed close enough that Ethan’s bones fit naturally between the spaces in his. The rhythmic intake and release of oxygen, accompanied by the soft ripple of the streaming bubbles was a lullaby to his sleep deprived mind. His chin fell, an effort to reserve his strength wasted. His tail fell in line with Ethan’s, more relaxed than the smaller man. It was so quiet, he swore he could hear Ethan’s heart beating, and he leaned into the sound.

Ethan lost his death grip, holding Mark around the middle with his forearms parallel to his ribs. The taut muscles in his arms relaxed back into their natural positions, and he could feel the rise and fall of Mark’s chest come to a slow, even rhythm. He hummed quietly in satisfaction.  _ Sleep well. _

Even with the stars hanging above them, he knew where he was going. Maybe it was instinct, he could’ve very well been born with an excellent sense of direction. Some of the elders in the colony said it was something to do with the poles, but he doubted they’d ever been that close to them given how often they complained about the cold water. Whatever it was, he knew where he was going.

_ Home. _

They hadn’t yet reached the halfway point, but Ethan liked to believe that tug in his chest was it calling to him. He was finally going back to his family, to familiar ground forged with memories. He wanted to show Mark everything. 

By daybreak, Ethan was feeling it. The long haul. The weight of another person in his arms and the burning in his muscles. He  _ may  _ have been a little out of shape, but it was his own fault. The lazy waters and rich hunting grounds near the shoreline had done him in. And he was  _ feeling it.  _

_ Don’t stop,  _ his mind urged him on. There was an ungodly amount of ocean between them and their destination. The longer they took, the more vulnerable they became. And he wanted to keep Mark safe, he wanted to always be able to hold him like this, keeping him close to his heart. 

He let them float a little closer to the surface, his fear worn down by the dull knife of exhaustion. Slow, but steady, he swam. The rumble of bubbles moving in short breaths past his ears drowned out the smaller noises around them, it was the only thing he heard. Mark was the only thing he was focused on. Getting him home, getting him to somewhere where he could emotionally recover.

Maybe that’s why he missed it at first.

Subtle at first, but slowly growing was the ominous thunder in the water.

It had been easy to ignore. Ethan was hyper focused on only moving forward, just trying to keep his momentum going. 

And then, in the silence following the intake of breath, it was  _ right there _ .

Every ache was amplified in that moment when he immediately began swimming down.  _ Down, down down!  _

Away from that  _ thing.  _ Moving through the ocean as a slow guillotine, upturning water and any living creature in its path. If Ethan had been paying attention, he could’ve taken down so far they wouldn’t have even heard it. But he wasn’t. And now, with his worn energy, he was trying to accomplish in five minutes what it normally took to do in an hour. 

Like a metal storm, the noise blocked out the rational voices in his head while he struggled. Mark was feeling the jerky movements, coming to with a headache and complete confusion.

He couldn’t hear anything but what sounded like the muffled roar of something big. He squirmed in Ethan’s arms, trying to get his bearings but  _ damn  _ if the man didn’t have an utter death grip on him. He tried wiggling his tail, resulting in the little statue he’d been carrying becoming loose. He wasn’t really sure on the concept of hiding things under scales, and he was now realizing that it was a bad idea for him to carry it as he watched it float away from his eyes.

Ethan could only feel the vibration of Mark’s words, but it caught his attention. He looked down at him, then at the outstretched finger. Mark was desperate to talk because he could not lose the statue. _ That  _ was all he had left. His security object, his memory,  _ everything.  _ And it was going to get swept up in the giant fucking ocean by that giant fucking freighter.

He didn’t get a chance to breathe when Ethan let him go because his scrawny arms shoved him down even further. Ethan pushed off Mark, tears in his eyes because he was so goddamned scared, but that broken look in Mark’s eyes told him that if he lost that wooden fish Mark might never forgive him.

All Mark could do was watch.

Nothing was connected yet, sleep had unplugged his nerves and his poor, jumbled brain was trying to sort the issue while he watched.

Watched Ethan swim after that materialistic possession of theirs.

Watched him reach out to it.

Watched him get sent through a fucking wringer from the slow churning snare of a 200,000 ton ship.


	10. Kitty!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No new chapter just yet, but it is coming soon, I promise! In the meantime, please enjoy this photo of Kissy Face, she is an older calico boarding for the week and is quite possibly the SWEETEST kitty on the Earth. She also has a big fat cat head perfect for petting

<https://photos.app.goo.gl/1sWPtVa24UKBSDt99>


	11. Be Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mark's turn to step up, but Ethan is scared of being too close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Please enjoy!

Mark couldn’t hear anything over the noise, not even the sound of his ragged breathing as he was frozen by his own pain. Ethan looked like the loose towel in a dryer, being thrown around by a force infinitely stronger than he. Wrenching his hands away from his mouth, he threw them behind him and abandoned his fear into a dark corner. He called to him, he  _ really  _ tried to whistle, something broken and miserably long. 

He pushed himself up, the noise of the freighter hauntingly loud in his mind. The ship was passing, but its presence was engraved in him. Mark grabbed him by the shoulders, his neck, his jaw, anywhere he could physically feel him. He couldn’t focus, his eyes that matched the ocean seemed to purposefully avoid Mark’s, no matter how hard he tried. Mark framed his sharp features in a rough grip, bringing him close. Ethan sighed at the touch, grateful for something comforting. His eyes fluttered, but Mark held one open with the pad of his thumb, inspecting the iris and attempting a diagnosis. 

He craned his head away from the rough touch, only to bring his head back in and press it against Mark’s chest, drawing in ragged breaths and letting the chemical rush of fading adrenaline and panic wash over him. Mark wouldn’t let him have that moment, and Ethan fought him as he pried him up to the surface. 

“Are you okay?! Do you-do you feel concussed? Can you see? Can you see me?” He babbled, grabbing at Ethan’s face again, thumbing over imaginary cuts and bruises.

“M’fine.” He turned away, shoving the statue back at him. “I’m used to-to rough currents and stuff.” The back of his hand was used to wipe away what could have been a tear, but was disguised as the ocean water. 

“What happened?”

His voice was soft, a reserved tone that made Ethan’s face hot with impending tears. “I-I dunno I was just swimming….and...and I wasn’t paying attention and I wasn’t down low enough…”

“Uh-huh,” Mark urged him on gently, his hand resting on Ethan’s arm in an attempted comforting gesture. But he was staring past him, at the silver monstrosity sinking into the horizon of empty sky.

“And... _ fuck  _ I just panicked and...and I was scared and it was so loud-” He broke off, staring off into the distance and not at Mark because he couldn’t bear to see that pitiful softness resting on his features. 

Mark pulled him in, ignoring the stiffness from the younger man because he just looked so miserable. He wanted to panic, hell yes he wanted to lose his mind-a  _ giant ship nearly turned them into ground meat in the water!  _ But there was no point in having two people without sanity. So he pushed down the deep darkness that was his current mental state, and hugged Ethan good and close.

“You know what?” He murmured, quieter than intended over the disrupted waves. “That’s...that’s horrible. But you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be fine.”

He patted him on the back a few times, each one eliciting a small jolt, but that could have been the lingering adrenaline. Looking back, the event was more disorientating than anything. Ethan got a shooken around some, but there wasn’t a scratch on him, thank God. Mark wasn’t going to mention that, of course, but the thought brought him some comfort. 

Ethan was small in his arms. He hadn’t realized how easily he could slot him against his chest. Although, he was an awfully squirmy thing. Mark squeezed him a little tighter, trying to ground himself more than anything. His headache was growing angrier in the burning, unadulterated heat of the sun that even his olive skin couldn’t protect him against. And Ethan was even paler. 

“Do you always whistle under the water?” 

Ethan perked his head up, giving him a quizzical look.

“Like, how do you talk?”

He sniffled, running a hand across his face. “With, um… hand signsls n’ stuff. Why?”

“We should really keep going, and...and I don’t know how to talk to you without...well, without being up here. It’s hard, and...I...I just…”

“You wanna keep going?” Ethan had lowered his tone to an almost imperceivable pitch. It was tender, and hopeful, and added to the guilt Mark was feeling. His slim hands had finally stilled, resting so that his fingertips pressed gently against his shoulders.

“Yeah.” He readjusted himself to run a hand through the nonexistent knots in his hair. “You know...safety and...whatever.” Mark didn’t dare look at the stupid, probably sweet face Ethan was pulling. But his traitorous eyes fell downwards, right into the bermuda triangle of an ocean swimming in his eyes.

The color seemed to change with the light, and in the blaring sun they were a sweet cornflower. A dopey smile rested tiredly on his lips, and he looked up at Mark like he had promised him everything. 

Mark cleared his throat, moving his hands away from where they had fallen on Ethan’s hips. “You look tired, are you tired?”

“Uh, a little.” Ethan shook his head, clearing the fog away and ended up wincing at the dull pain in his neck. “You’re...you’re, uh, right. We should get going.”

Nodding slowly, Mark kept his eyes trained on him as they escaped into their natural environment. There was a whine of hunger from his middle, but his mind was trained on one thing only. The off-kilter swimming motions of the man he was suddenly able to follow with ease. He swam at a strange angle, and his sense of direction was definitely fucked. 

A short whistle got his attention, and Mark was already on him as he turned his head groggily. At first, Ethan thought he may have been going in for a choke hold, given that his arms were  _ wrapped  _ very tightly around his scrawny neck. He fought him uselessly until Mark finally caught on and let him go. At which point Mark began making strange gestures with his hands in another futile attempt at communication.

Flaring his gills, Ethan lifted his arms in a ‘What the heck?’ gesture. Mark only grabbed at his hand, pulling on him and making the soreness in Ethan’s joints cry louder. 

Mark just wanted to make this easier for him. He needed to rest, and they needed to keep moving. Clearly, Ethan’s method wasn’t going to work. He was constantly squirming and twitching, and Mark’s tail wasn’t strong enough yet to propel them without the aid of his arms.  _ Okay,  _ he sighed internally,  _ New plan. Think. C’mon. How do I carry someone? _

Ethan’s face flushed a strong shade of red because out of nowhere Mark was now  _ backing up into him  _ and readjusting his arms and putting them both in a  _ very  _ compromising position _.  _ Before he could swish away, Mark had wrapped Ethan’s arms around his neck and was joining his hands together. He was now resting strangely on his back, feeling every muscle shift as he began to move. 

_ Oh.  _ He shifted experimentally, letting his tail relax and drag in the current.  _ This isn’t so bad.  _ There was a closeness between them that would have allowed him to rub his cheek adoringly against the lush field of Mark’s hair, but the small voice inside pulled him back.  _ Close. But not too close.  _ He pressed his nose in the crease of Mark’s spine, struggling to strike a balance between respectfully distant and doing whatever the hell he wanted. His face burned a little brighter when Mark whistled a few curious notes. He  _ really  _ wished he couldn’t, but at least he couldn’t see him. 

He gave a couple quick taps against Mark’s skin.  _ I’m okay. _

Nodding, Mark continued to swim, the jerky movements coming to an eventual rhythm, easily disrupted but still there. Ethan held on a little tighter, the corners of his mouth heavier than before. Mark was bull-headed, but kind. He was quick to anger, but patient when it mattered. Ethan loved it all. He  _ wanted  _ it all. Every last piece of him, he wanted to hold and cherish.

That was the stupid, genetic part of him. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault he was hard-wired to mate for life. To want someone forever, good or bad. A fit or not. And it was a horrible fear because Mark didn’t love him. The burning flame gobbling up the anxiety grew on the back of his mind, the smoke spelling out all the thoughts he had been ignoring.

He had taken Mark’s life away. Practically imprisoned him in the ocean, after all. Ethan had broken the strongest man on the Earth. How could he possibly love him back?

As the shameful tears welled up in his eyes, the ear pressed against Mark’s skin caught the hushed notes Mark was singing into the nothingness. Each one short-lived, rough, and unique. Practicing the length and pitch. Ethan gave a baleful look at the back of his head, wondering how he could keep swimming when Ethan felt so  _ heavy.  _

Within the nonsensical song and the odd movements, he faded into the emptiness at his core. A black hole, created from the legitimate nightmare that prowled the surface.  _ No.  _ He fought against it, his weary mind holding out for only a moment.

_ You’re safe.  _

_ He has you.  _

_ You’re okay. _


	12. Food Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief lesson in who rules the ocean, and a peaceful night between two...friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Met a client at work who has been feeding her dog a rotisserie chicken every day for the last four years. A leg and a breast every morning. I was absolutely shook. The dog's name was Peanut, but damn, should've called him Walnut.

_ “Ettthhaannn,”  _ Mark whistled. The sound carried farther in the empty water than he’d meant to, echoing off the nothingness surrounding them. Night had carted the stars out for viewing, but thick clouds ruined the view. The weight on his back moved none, even after a subtle shake from Mark.

He sang a few notes louder, and hey! They didn’t sound half bad. It was at least loud enough to wake Ethan, who was beginning to stir. He could feel the smaller man take in a deep breath, and the way his expanding chest pressed against his back. Grinning, he rolled the half awake body off him and let him fall into the weighted empty around them. 

He flailed groggily at the sensation, suddenly adrift. And then, Mark’s smug face was coming into view, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Ethan’s scrunched up expression clearly brought him great humor, along with his confusion.  _ Good morning,  _ he mouthed, pointing up to the surface. 

Ethan was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he broke the water. The darkness in the corners of his vision was matched by the sky, clearing up nothing for him.  _ How long was I sleeping? _

“Feeling better?” Mark teased, treading water with some difficulty.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “How long’s it been?”

“Just through the day, I would’ve let you sleep longer but...I, uh...don’t know where I’m going.”

Ethan blinked. “Oh.”

He turned his attention to the marbled sky, clouded by...well, clouds.  _ Damn.  _ Ethan made small circles in the water for a moment, his thoughts trying to untangle themselves and form coherent ideas. “Do you know which way the, um, sun set?”

Mark gave a lazy point to the area behind them. “‘Bout that direction.”

_ Okay. That’s good. Good.  _ “Focus,” he muttered under his breath. Which way was the pull strongest? Which direction was the worn river path in the stone, carved from the flow of memories and instincts gifted to him through generations of travellers?

He swam forward experimentally, only a foot or so, swiveling his head around like the beacon of a lighthouse. Waiting, watching, willing the sense to reach him. To catch in his mind-

_ There.  _ Like the snag of a thread, a small point of recognition that had found him. 

“That way,” he declared, pointing a finger to an unseen landmark in the distance. “Let’s go-”

“Hang on a minute.” Mark grabbed his wrist, holding him back. “I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry? Because I am starving.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked downward, assessing the pain in his gut. He’d gone further on less, especially since he’d slept all day. Although, Mark wasn’t like him. He needed fuel, not an endurance test. With a short nod, Ethan dove down into the water, not waiting for Mark to follow.

In the short amount of time Mark had taken to dip back down, Ethan had located a school of fish and pounced on them. Mark watched the lazy elegance in his hunting, the years of experience being flaunted as he caught them.  _ Showoff. _

He returned with a small bounty for the both of them. The ate and swam, with Ethan throwing him a hand gesture or two to help Mark become more comfortable with the motions. It gave him something to focus, to learn. If it didn’t make sense, Ethan would mouth the words to him anyways; Mark hoped he wasn’t going  _ too  _ easy on him. 

Although he was mostly preoccupied, he would circle back to the fish statue they’d lost. The loss didn’t burn so much as ache, something that ran deeper than the sadness over a stolen carving. 

He numbed the distress with his new alphabet. As his hands fumbled into the awkward shapes of supposed letters, he wondered if it had been this hard for Ethan to learn Korean. Mark didn’t mention it when he stumbled over specific words, but it was obviously a second language. Or third.  _ How many languages does he know? _

Mark knew a little German (not to brag or anything). His dad hailed from the country before settling down in Korea, a sailor by heart and fisher by trade.  _ He would’ve lost his mind if he knew what happened to me.  _ That made him smile, rather than hurt. His dad always told him and his brother the strange legends carried across the oceans, more than once spouting off about mermaids and sirens.  _ He would’ve loved this. _

The current tangling its invisible fingers in his hair, smooth and silky. The schools of fish, undisturbed and whole. The endless plains of water, empty yet promising. Mark himself was coming around.

Ethan made him feel safe in the open ocean, nothing seemed to stick with him long. Besides, they were obviously predators, surely not much would-

_ SHARK! _

Mark screeched in the water, a guttural stream of noise blasting away in the water.  _ Oh God oh God oh my God!  _

Floating just below his fins was a giant man-eating  _ real  _ ocean predator. Jagged fins, hulking body and everything. Ethan snagged his arm in a worried grip, looking around wildly for the threat before spotting the monstrosity. 

He quickly restrained Mark’s flailing limbs, pushing them down before absentmindedly running a soothing hand through the baby-fine hair on his neck. It caught Mark off guard, and while he tossed a bewildered look at the offender, he noticed the simple happiness from Ethan. He was watching the beast with gills like it was a wild deer, and not something that would quite easily snap them both up.

A mouthful of nonsense escaped him as his human brain tried to form words in the water. Ethan looked at him with a sympathetic smile, and began slowly spelling out letters with his hands.

_ N-O-T-B-A-D- _

Mark grabbed at his hands. Because this was not some large fish, this was a  _ shark.  _ On a good day, Mark would leave the water if something touched his foot, this was two million miles out of his league. Fishing meant being on a boat, and controlling the seas. Not being stuck in the same vicinity as a FUCKING SHARK.

WIthout hesitation, he dragged the dumbass that was still gawking at the thing to where he could actually talk to him. “That is a  _ shark!”  _ He babbled, stabbing a finger down into the water. “That thing could kill us!”

“Nuh-uh!” Ethan giggled, bringing his arms ups defensively.

“Uh-Huh!”

“We’re fine if we don’t, like bug them”

“But it’s a  _ shark!” _

The giggling only made Mark angrier, and in an infantile move he splashed him with a heavy push of water. “It’s not funny!” He scowled, wishing the laughter would stop and they could put some distance between them and the literal predator swimming below them.

“Mark, look,” Ethan said, pointing a finger to his teeth. “They’re sharp, see?” His words were garbled by the finger in his mouth, but Mark at least pretended to be listening. Ethan flexed his fingers, the hardened points at the end gleaming white in the sun. “See? We’re big too.”

Scrunching up his face, Mark gave a shake of his head. “That...that doesn’t make any sense. You’re terrible at explaining this.”

The high pitched, goofy laugh returned for another moment. “We’re, um….we’re like the, uh, thing. We’re...uh…-” he mumbled under his breath for a moment, “- _ Fredeter.” _

“You mean predators?”

Ethan gave a quick snap of his fingers. “Yeah! That’s it!” He tilted his head, eyes reassuring. “We’re the scariest things out here, I swear.”

He looked down at himself, at the elongated tail, the sharp teeth, every changed aspect about himself. The wariness to return below hadn’t faded, but he pushed past it when the thought of Ethan babying him more crossed him. He didn’t  _ want  _ to be a burden. He just wanted to function. 

They were able to go further without any more surprises. Just the two of them, comfortably deep in the ocean and chugging along through the night. Mark could see quite well, and his swimming had improved to keep a steady gait a pace behind Ethan. 

He still wanted to hold his hand. To feel that knowing warmth of another. To curl his fingers around Ethan’s knuckles and follow along with the wiry muscles under the skin. To just feel…. _ him.  _

_ Shit.  _ That was a whole other conversation Mark needed to have with himself. This kind of feeling wasn’t familiar territory in the slightest. He’d always assumed he’d settle down with a nice  _ girl _ ; fulfill his mom’s dream of grandkids and all that. Maybe get himself a stable job, a nice house with a big yard for gardening, something like that.

Everything had changed. He had to rebuild his whole mindset anyways, and he wasn’t sure how much about  _ himself _ had changed.

Maybe more than he thought.

It was becoming more comfortable for him to take the lead. When Ethan became off-kilter,  _ Mark  _ took the initiative to pull him down deeper. He was still given general directions, but Ethan didn’t fight him. He was the boat, and Ethan the sails.

He watched those slim fingers work through the tough seagrass, twisting into a nest-like shape. There was guilt in the deja vu of watching the motions. Remembering his actions of before stirred up the negatives of his situation again.

Mark choked them all down. Ethan had finished, and was staring at him expectedly.

Lowering down, Mark laid his stomach on the soft, untouched sand. His companion squeezed in next to him in their narrow bed of aqueous foliage. He chose to lay on his side, facing away from Mark and giving him a full view of the map of freckles that lay with him. 

Freckles and scars, Mark noticed.

They were disrupted when his body was in constant motion, but taking advantage of the stillness, they occupied the skin in multitudes.

Some formed patterns of bites and scratches.

Some were ugly, long, and thin. Like an old clothesline.

A lifetime before his eyes of survival. Scar-colored flames arching up into his shoulder blades. He pressed a finger lightly to the longest one, tracing its path with the laziness of fatigue. 

Ethan was already deep enough into the enticing numbness of sleep that he didn’t react, but every minute shift and dip of Mark’s hand would be ingrained in his mind. The sand beneath his head sunk in a little deeper, dropping his head. And then, his eyelids.


	13. Itty Bitty Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There'll be a chapter update on Sunday, and in the meantime meet Mallerie! She's 3lbs of pure love and fluff, and even after having her tail amputated is amazingly brave. A kind client brought her in as a stray, and one of the doctors already has plans to take her home❤️

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1STlCX8jfUS7gV5DthoM5cahgk56yC7sG/view?usp=sharing>


	14. Show Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within the blur of days that becomes a journey, there are moments that stick out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah.....there's gonna be smut later on. We all knew it was coming. Not now, but...soon.

Nights were what Mark remembered most about their journey. First, the shared moment of the pure glory of an ocean sunrise. Their nights came in the form of the ocean floor, quiet, dark, and solitary.  Then, the bravery, created from the exhaustion carving away at the surface thoughts. Feather touches, light and pressing at the same time, trading off between the two of them and lulling them to sleep. 

Neither spoke about it when they woke, hunting and swimming as if nothing had changed. The moments existed in their minds, yielding to ignorance. But present all the same.

The clouds were thick on the current evening, disappointing Mark especially. He’d grown used to the glitter array that had been the night sky blanketing the humanless expanse of water.  It was the first clap of thunder that sent a tense shock through Ethan. It caught him off guard, that’s all. The long day had dimmed his awareness, allowing the noise to sneak up on him. He wasn’t  _ scared.  _ Storms were just storms, nothing else. Just nature doing its thing. That’s all. 

His attention was grabbed by a sharp squeak, something Mark had been working on. He turned to look, seeing Mark’s hands at chest level and how he extended his palms so that his fingers were spread in a quick motion.  _ Scared?  _ He signed.

Ethan scrunched up his face, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. The question would have been sweet if Mark didn’t have that teasing look on his face. Ethan was not  _ scared.  _ There were much bigger things to be worried about, he had only been caught off guard.  Just to prove it, he swam up into the swell of water, thrown upwards by the strengthening wind. He let his fins flick into the air, lit up by the electric bolt in the sky. He looked back at Mark, eyebrows raised.

The smug expression remained. Mark pressed his lips together and gave a single shake of his head.  _ Not buying it.  _

With a huff, Ethan jerked his head away from that stupid face. He  _ wasn’t  _ scared! They’d been through at least three storms already, this one was no different. But Mark had seen him flinch. Big tough Mark who got scared of itty bitty sharks.

He looked up, eyes narrowing on a forming wall of water. Turning back to Mark, he pointed to the surface, then his index and middle finger back at him.  _ Watch this,  _ the words formed.  As Mark popped his head up, the wind smashed into his ears, hot, dry, and angry without rain. He could barely make out Ethan in the upcoming surge of water, but his dark form was a sliver of shadow his eyes were trained to see. 

He watched the way he fought and twisted to overtake the wave, and as the lightning branched across the heavy sky Ethan broke from the tallest point on the cliff of the tower of water.

Sudden, and sharp. Illuminated by the light, he was a glimmering needle cutting through the wind and falling through the sky.

Agape, he watched the perfect form hold, never breaking its elegant curve and hitting the water with a sharpened point. 

The momentum had sent Ethan down deep, where the rocking of the ocean was only a current. He swam back to Mark, relishing the shocked expression he was so blatantly trying to hide.  He’d learned that trick from a small group of travelers off the coast of what was known as the Growing Islands. The waves there had been absolute behemoths, and it was a nightly game for them to launch themselves from the highest point. Ethan had suffered many back flops to get that move right, and as of right now he’d never been prouder of himself.

Now that it was his turn to hold the torch of high pride, he made sure to swim ahead of Mark by  _ that much _ to remind him who the professional was here. And reminded Mark was.

The image of Ethan’s figure diving across the background of an intense storm was something worth remembering forever. The event itself was quick, but Mark’s mind played it back for him in a slow loop. Repeating over and over.

_ His slim body flushed with electric light. _

_ The smooth curve of his body. _

_ His stoic face, concentrating on something for once and- _

_ Oh.  _ Mark tensed.

There was a familiar sensation suddenly in the pit of his stomach and moving south with every imaginative thought. Ethan had taken up swirling around him, poking him teasingly and he twisted his head away sharply to avoid seeing his face. 

No way was this happening right now.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Did he-?

Mark didn’t  _ see  _ anything, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. The feeling was all there, but Mark had zero knowledge of his new anatomy. And he was NOT asking Ethan. God no. Never.

At least he’d finally caught on to the dramatic shift in Mark’s mood. Ethan had respectfully given him an inch of space, but his curiosity kept him close.  _ Just keep going and it will go away,  _ he thought desperately. A boner for the man who saved his life. Not unheard of, but with extremely poor timing because Ethan would  _ not get out of his fucking personal space.  _

He couldn’t deal with that right now. He just needed….a little more time. Yep. More time would fix all the complicated emotions and hormones flooding him right now. And definitely not telling Ethan.

Ethan.

Ethan, who had caught on more than Mark had noticed. The subtle flare in his gills, the large pupils, the jerky movements in his swimming. Ethan wasn’t an idiot. But he was becoming very,  _ very  _ red. He purposefully avoided looking at Mark, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He kept his face stiff, hiding the smile behind his mask.

There was no reason to smile.

They were just two dudes, out in the ocean. 

Swimming freely and what not.

But….Ethan felt awfully proud of himself.

An unexpected reaction, sure. A good sign-absolutely. He swam faster, excitedly, trying to keep his cool and failing but happy all the same. Another swell caught his eye, and with his newfound energy he swam into the rolling curve of the ocean. 

He looked back at Mark, and at the reproachful, nervous expression clinging to him.  _ Don’t do that,  _ Ethan willed him.  _ Don’t be afraid. Don’t go. _

Swirling back towards him, he grabbed tight to his arm and pulled him into the next swell. It toyed with them lazily, rolling them around and sending Mark fumbling in Ethan’s hold. He was painfully confused by the tender smile worn by the other, his eyes ignited in the storm and coming closer than ever.

In that moment, in the entirety of the ocean, Ethan was without fear, without care, without worry. His hands traced Mark’s jaw, holding him above himself and losing everything in him. Gentle purrs of thunder wrapped around them, the air warming the top layer of water and the bodies it cradled. In a fluid motion, Ethan brought him down and kissed him. 

He’s stiff, and awkward, but as they find themselves magnetically drawn together there’s no time before Mark finds himself melting into the motions and kissing him back fervently. His hands have their own mind and they run up and down the smooth figure grounding him and keeping in the moment. Their moment.

Ethan’s nose brushes his cheek as Mark tilts his head to get a better angle, sinking further into whatever was making him feel this good. His body happily rewards him with all the serotonin he could want, and the indulgence drives him further. He ducks his head down, sucking on Ethan’s pulse point and feeling the deep gasps from the younger man. Mouth, neck, chest, he wants everything right  _ now _ .

Ethan was more than happy to let his hands roam and head hang back, watching the sky through fluttering eyes and brain short circuiting. It was all he could do to remember to breathe. Twisted up in Mark’s arms, riding out the sensations and barely holding on as his body begged for more. He can feel the low groans from Mark when he slides the edges of his nails up his back. Light, but promising. His mouth falls open when Mark moves lower, savoring him and punishing him at the same time.

The storm had moved directly over top of them, and the crash of thunder had lost its softness, reminding everyone below of its volume. Ethan twitched-he  _ twitched- _ and that was all it took.

Mark pulled back, concerned and caring and no longer giving Ethan what he wanted. He tried to bring him back down, but that annoyingly sweet side of him was not budging.  _ You okay?  _ He mouthed, hands holding his arms tight and at arms length. It was all fading fast, leaving him tired, and foggy. 

He nodded, but Mark was having none of it. Another round of thunder caught his attention, and he frowned at the sky. Ethan huffed, diving back at him and pressing wanting kisses to his broad chest. Slow, tempting, but not enough to distract Mark from the exhaustion of an ended rush of hormones. Before he could get caught up, he grabbed Ethan by the hand and swam them both down deeper. 

Ethan was hopeful, but Mark made it clear that they’d have to pick up another time. He let himself be sullen and slack. Sleep was on the back burner right now, why did Mark have to be so... _ Mark?  _ They didn't even have a proper nest, no way was he going to get a proper nights sleep feeling this exposed.

Sensing the lingering disappointment, Mark moved him around so that his back was pressed snugly against his chest, effectively making Ethan the little spoon. He tolerated it at first, but as Mark slipped his arms over his...he was done for.

He hummed softly as Mark rested his chin at the top of his head, both of forgetting to hold back and only holding each other. Just to be a pain, Ethan rolled his hips back against Mark, reveling in the low growl he made. He held onto him tighter, a quick squeeze to remind him who had ensnared who. Ethan snuggled down further, a pleased smile on his lips and a curse on his mind.

He didn’t  _ want  _ to sleep. Long day or not, couldn’t he stay awake and enjoy this? 

  
  



	15. Mallerie Has A Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Stiletto! A four-month old little lady, and now bffs with Mallerie. She was another stray surrendered to us, and Mallerie seemed awfully lonely, so they were put together and now...they're adorable.

<https://photos.app.goo.gl/XxPaDgtz4EsiVL14A>

<https://photos.app.goo.gl/obWhccdzWKBsMaSp6>


	16. A Million Different Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ocean is a battlefield, and every stranger is a potential combatant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would've posted this sooner, but my wifi was out (God FORBID there be clouds and wind.) There are mentions of blood below, but nothing horribly gory.

Was a mental hangover possible?

Mark was pretty sure he had one. Everything felt so…. _ blurry.  _ It happened so fast. As right as it felt to have Ethan cuddled close in his arms, was it wrong?

_ Were they merely getting caught up because they were together? _

_ Because it was convenient? _

He glanced down, at the soft figure with smudges of freckles and a lifetime of mirth curled around the edges of his mouth in a permanent grin. 

_ No way. _

For the first time in however long, Mark recalled the past with only a melancholy bitterness. He remembered that strangely alluring voice just out of sight. How every lonely and broken evening, those songs eased the pain and filled the loneliness. A writer’s muse, an aged kindness, the ocean personified.

And Mark got to hold him like this. 

They reveled in the peace of the night, the cool darkness inviting them to swim higher. Side by side, riding the natural flow of the ocean and following the eternal map of stars. Although they bobbed lazily in the current, the watery drifts carried the familiar sharpness of the night’s previous tantrum. 

Between every few breaths, Ethan would nudge his head against Mark, an insistent neediness in his motions. He’d lean into the motions, his attention diverted to continuing his journey. He’d practically  _ mastered  _ the whole ‘tail’ thing. No matter what Ethan said. Signing was interesting, but he made a game of challenging his counterpart to explain difficult words. 

“Ghost?” He mouthed curiously, hoping to trip him up.

Ethan, with a short smile, extended one hand out and with the other he grabbed it and raised it upwards. Furrowing his brows, Mark thought a little harder.

“Snail?”

His fingers formed a curled up ‘V’, and they made a slow, dragging motion along his arm.

“Chocolate?”

That was met with confusion.  _ Oh, right.  _ Cultural difference, and whatnot.  _ Fuck, I’m going to miss chocolate. _

Ethan’s squeak of laughter changed pitches dramatically.

They both caught it, but Ethan’s attention was caught by something lower in the distance.  _ He  _ hadn’t made that noise.

Squinting at the moving shape, Mark wondered what he was seeing. He moved forward, unintentionally, and Ethan’s hand snapped out. Holding him back. 

He tensed, looking back between Ethan and whatever else was suddenly with them. Ethan sang a terse measure of careful notes. Wary, on edge, staccato fractures. Mark tugged at his arm.  _ What?  _ He signed, repeating the gesture more aggressively. 

He made a quick half turn with his thumb.

_ Another. _

Mark stared pointedly at him.  _ Another what? _

As he turned back, the ‘thing’ had grown closer, unafraid of them. And for good reason. She whistled, high, curious, and vastly different from Ethan’s reproachful greeting. 

Mark watched her pale blue tail roll gracefully towards them, her fins twitching and voice carrying to them easily. He was caught in a loop of looking at Ethan, and then her, because  _ she  _ was not scary. 

She was smaller than them, with strong curves of muscle along her arms and dark hair that had lighter ends catching in the moonlight. Her eyes scanned over them both, closing the distance and coming to rest within arm’s reach.

Too close for Ethan.

Mark could feel the high strung wires in his arms, holding him still. Ethan made a few rapid fire gestures, his hands moving faster than he could follow. He hated that he  _ knew  _ his face was making that dopey ‘What?’ expression as they talked. She was far friendlier than he was, her mouth upturned and twitching with the conversation. 

A soft tap was used to remind Ethan that he was there, because he  _ was  _ and that he was  _ not  _ able to follow along. Blinking, Ethan softened his expression and spelled out a simple gesture for him. 

_ Her name is Roe. _

_ She lives near here. _

That would explain the camouflage, her colors nearly blending in with the ocean. She chirped at them, looking at Mark and signing delicately. Ethan was making the same gesture over and over, the same shortened word repeated with his hand as he moved himself in front of Mark. An open palm gesture with his right hand, patting the triangle above his chest formed by his collarbone.

He seemed to be forming an awfully long sentence, and right in the middle of it, she turned to Mark, batted her eyelashes, and cooed at him. 

While he was merely taken aback, Ethan was  _ pissed. _

Teeth bared, his face contorted into an ugly snarl.

Fueled by it, she swam upwards to place her hands down on Mark’s shoulders. He wriggled away from her sharp nails, encouraging them to dig in deeper despite Ethan’s expression. Ethan dropped his jaw, emitting a deafening  _ click _ that stung against Mark’s ears. Nothing was moving her. 

When she nipped at the cartilage on his ear, he punched her away with less force than planned, but she got the message. 

Venom flooded the water around them. 

Ethan shoved Mark down and darted towards the stranger, curling around her and dragging his nails down the skin of her arm that had been thrown out to protect herself. He jerked away, only to swing back around. Teeth bared, he swung out again, only to be caught by her good arm. Her teeth caught on the hard edge of his jaw, eliciting a screech. Wrenching himself back, his tail snapped him up towards the surface, with her hot on his tail.

Despite being half his size, she caught him easily in her arms. Dragging him into a brutal embrace, they fought and clawed each other as she dragged them down where the light couldn’t touch them.

Ethan bit down on one of the hands attempting to grab his neck. Blood clouded the open water between the stream of minute bubbles encircling them. Angry and rough was the screech emitted by his opponent, and when he attempted to slip away from her, she sunk her nails into the flesh around his ribs and pulled him back.

He rolled into the motion, trying in vain to lessen the damage. Swirling around, he pushed himself through the flurry of nails and arms to wrap his own hands around her neck and forcefully push her down.

Mark was fighting uselessly through the bubbles that clouded his view. He followed the fight with his own sluggish movements, watching the pair sink down out of view.  _ No! _

Since the first night, he’d noticed his sense of smell was nearly gone. 

But the copper taste in the back of his mouth made the presence of blood utterly known. 

He raged against the fear, pumping oxygen and jet fuel onto the flames of anger. His brain went up in smoke in the water, following the water and leaving a poisonous trail. His skin was cut and burned by the embers in between the threads of muscles overworked by panic and rage and his own resentment at the confusion in his gut. 

_ Why did she have to be like that? _

_ Why? _

_ Why couldn’t-? _

_ Ethan? _

_Ethan!_ _  
_ There he was! Flying fast and sharp, a crash course directly for Mark. He flew upwards, narrowly avoiding Mark but grabbing his hand all the same. The hand that was connected to the arm that was connected to the shoulder that was nearly yanked from its socket as Mark went from 0-60 in a single breath.

His open mouth trailed bubbles as his shocked eyes panned over the mess of Ethan’s middle. The few slivers of unbroken skin were rubbed with red trailing in the water, and the rest was raw and riddled with bites.

Somehow, there was a smile on his face. It wrinkled his eyes, and showed his stained teeth. Mark just stared, eyebrows pointed towards his forehead and wondering what kind of head injury Ethan had suffered recently.

The skimmed the surface, gaining speed and putting distance between them and whatever the fuck had happened. Mark forced his head upwards, throwing his upper half into the air and dragging Ethan to a halt. 

Breathless, frustrated, and tired. Mark needed an explanation, like,  _ yesterday.  _ “What the hell was that?” He gestured indignantly towards a general expanse of water.

“I won,” Ethan gasped, his chest heaving and smile fainter than before.

“Wha-No! I mean-” His arms made wild gestures, “-What was her problem!?”

“Oh.” His face dropped, as did his eyes. They melted into a baleful gaze, Mark’s anger getting the best of his beaten self. “She… she, um...she wanted to be your mate.”

Mark’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his face, and Ethan painfully tried to stutter an explanation. “We...well...we mate for life...and, uh, in open water like this….they can get aggressive.”

_ For life? That’s a helluva commitment. _

“Jesus.” He stared out into the air, at the paling sky that was easier to watch than Ethan’s face. A breath or two brought him back down, snuffing out the remaining fire in him. He released the smoke in a long sigh. “Is everyone like that?”

“Nah, outside of colonies it’s, uh, slim pickings. A guy woulda been easier to deal with.” Ethan gave a dry chuckle. “Girls are vicious.”

There was a sluggish pass of silence as Mark traced over the exposed flesh of his skin. “Are you okay?” Asking tenderly, he brought his hand up to rub circles on his bicep with his thumb.

“Yeah. It’s happened before.” He snapped up, stammering quickly. “Not like, this exact, um, situation...like, fights, and territory stuff.” His hands made awkward little motions, soundless words of awkwardness. Mark grasped them in his, stilling him. Eyes slanted and caring, he adored the blush growing easily over the nearly translucent skin. Skin that was marred and bruised. 

Ethan let his head fall into him, a low breathe falling from his mouth as he spoke tiredly. “I’m tired,” he murmured. His arms felt weighted and useless, falling at his side and giving up on him. He found the strength to hold on to Mark as he carried them down, away from the sun and battlefield. 

The fear of a returning opponent kept him going until a nest was made, and when he could finally settle in, he began tending to his wounds. Mark watched his curiously as the smaller man ran his pale tongue over the wounds on his arms, cleaning away the blood and nipping at the dead skin around the edges.  _ Like a cat,  _ he thought humorously.

A short stretch caught the pinprick bites on his shoulders.  _ Can I-? _

His stupidly fat head could, in fact,  _ not  _ reach the bites. 

Ethan looked up from the spot on his palm, tongue stuck partly out of his mouth and gaze on Mark wiggling his head around clumsily. His mouth twitched into a half-smile. Shifting closer, he eyed him warmly, placing his hands gently around the wounds. Mark could feel his breathing pick up, a different heat in his stomach.

Ethan lapped at the marks, slow and careful. Not so much a medical treatment, but a personal desire. He left open-mouthed kisses along his collar, pressed tight enough against Mark to be sitting in his lap and moved by the heavy breaths.

Mark slid his hands down to where he thought the wounds were sparser, fingers finding themselves on his waist, massaging the skin and feeling his hips rolling. He stretched his fingers out further, trying to hold all of him. Head rolling back, he could feel the path Ethan took to finally get to the sensitive skin around his neck. His gills had more nerve endings than he thought he could handle, and he prayed Ethan would go lower soon. His grip tightened-

Ethan flinched.

Away from him.

Mark’s eyes dropped like rocks, and he realized he’d dug his hands into an open area of skin. The poor man had his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fluttering away the pained tears clouding his iris. 

He looked back to Mark. Reproachful, embarrassed,  _ pained.  _

_ That’s a mood killer. _

With a crooked smile, Mark formed an L-shape with his hand, moving it towards Ethan.  _ Your turn. _

Ethan seemed unsure, but Mark pressed on. He dove down towards his chest, pursed his lips, and blew a raspberry against him.

He could feel the vibrations of a giggle, relishing the sound. It must’ve tickled, because Ethan shoved him away, smiling and bubbling.  _ Happier. _ Mark wrapped himself around his back, giving a light kiss to his temple.

_ I’d never hurt you. _


	17. Say Hello to Sasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Sahsa! She's an older pitbull boarding for a few days and currently holds the award for the most pettable melon

<https://photos.app.goo.gl/zV1GjUpArs4LnqUV8>


	18. What We Do Under The Water (*Smut*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You ever seen underwater porn?" -Mark Fischback, 'A Serious Conversation Under the Stars'  
> You ever read it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew this was gonna happen at some point

Boredom is the mind killer.

An endless loop of miserable stillness created from an utter lack of stimulation. 

A mental prison; dark, and terrible.

Mark  _ may  _ have been being dramatic. But he doubted it. 

The deeper they swam, the more fish he saw-long ones, fat ones, ugly ones. Well, most of them were ugly.  After a while, they just became food to him.  Signing became repetitive, singing became dull, and even Ethan had run out of ways to wordlessly beg attention from him. And damn, if he hadn’t tried everything already. Both of them felt the pent up energy of a long road trip wearing its miles on their brains. The ocean was a magically boring place.

A lunch break offered some reprieve, and a competition between the two. Ethan scored more fish, but Mark had gotten some cool looking ones. Cool, and inedible, apparently. He glared at the retreating fins as Ethan shooed them off, already digging into his own catch and sharing with Mark. Who accepted it begrudgingly. 

The leftover skeleton he used to comb through his hair, grooming himself to pass the time. He basically copied whatever Ethan did, but...better. His beard was definitely better, a tad short, but it had to be nicer than the patchy scruff on the other man’s face. A refusal to shave was the silent battle between them, and he was winning easily.

Lazily, he followed the repeating motions of Ethan moving the rib bones through his hair. It didn’t do much, he kept his short, easily tameable. Mark liked a challenge. His eyes drifted lower, following the tracks of newly healed scars along his middle. They had a film over them, and he imagined it looked like the tissue covering an accidental bite on the inside of his cheek. They were puffier than before, but the raw state of them had faded. 

The wounds had aged.

The memory was still fresh.

He tossed a tuneless whistle to his counterpart, catching his attention with a vaguely curious stare, and half-hearted eyebrow raise.  _ I’m bored,  _ he signed, letting the motion drift slowly through the water.

Ethan shrugged, now picking at his teeth and humming mindlessly. 

_ Bored!  _ Mark signed more aggressively.

He earned a little thought this time. Ethan chewed on his cheek for a pause.  _ A game?  _

Mark made a face. What other game could they possibly make up?

_ Shave? _

Not happening.

_ Hunt? _

They’d just  _ done  _ that!

Mark drifted behind him, letting his arms fall limp around Ethan’s shoulders and he let his chin dig into his shoulder. Was this what his life was going to become? Mere survival? No entertainment?  _ Yikes. _

He shaped his hands in front of Ethan’s face, trying out full sentences.  _ Do you...friends… have fun things with friends? _

Ethan’s head dipped with his eyes. Not embarrassed, a recollection was more fitting a reaction. That subtle nod towards the left, a memory poking at him. And then Mark.

_ C’mon!  _ He urged him mentally.  _ Share! _

Ethan shook him off, looking flustered. There was  _ one  _ thing they could do. They were in the right spot to find it. “It”, of course, was frowned upon. He’d only tried it a couple of times when he was younger, he’d gotten lucky his mother had never caught him. She’d have his tail if she ever found out that’s what he and his group mates snuck off to do when he still lived in the colony. Mark probably wouldn’t even want to. 

Fighting off his advantages was a challenge in it of itself. Mark would certainly make a successfully aggressive male back home. In his face, low chattering, mussing his hair. He was no dummy. 

_ What are you hiding?  _ He mused, enjoying the growing redness on Ethan. Something inside him gave him further instruction on how to drive him wild, and he nipped playfully at his exposed skin while slowly encircling him. 

With a short bark, Ethan shot away from him, running his fingers across his scalp.  _ It’s….there’s this fish,  _ he signed, breaking down.

Mark urged him on.

_ And you touch it, and you feel really good. And messed up, in a good way.  _ Every other word was broken up by a nervous giggle, his hands fluttering around and trying to make sense of his ‘scientific discovery’. 

It wasn’t a  _ new  _ thing. His kin did it occasionally,  _ occasionally.  _ Just to pass the time and make it more enjoyable. But the way Mark’s face contorted into a strange expression of ‘What are you talking about?’ and ‘Oh my God I think I know what you’re talking about’ wasn’t reassuring.

_ Too late now, I guess.  _ He waved Mark over to him, keeping him by his side as they closed in on a small reef. There were little schools of fish swimming all around in their uniqueness, but one stood out to him more than the others.

Shaped like a teardrop and seemingly harmless, Ethan snagged it up quick. Like a magic trick, the fish puffed up into a scaly balloon. The little mouth opened and closed, and its fins struggled limply against the hand with a tight hold around the rear fin.

Ethan looked up at Mark, who watched him intently. He raised an eyebrow, not backing out, but not sure of what was happening either. A slow breath jettisoned bubbles from his gills, and before he could re-think anything, Ethan ran a hand across the fish. 

His eye involuntarily twitched as his hand was poked by the spines. Another breath sent the harmless toxins crashing into him, and already it was at its peak.  _ Fuck its been a while.  _ Wordlessly, he extended the frightened ball towards Mark, his jaw beginning to slacken. 

Mildly disturbed, Mark was hesitant to touch the squirming pufferfish. He raised up a single finger, experimentally pushing in the bloated exterior. The sting was more than he expected, but by the time he’d tucked his poor hand to his chest, he was feeling something. 

Through his bloodstream, a warmth was gushing all the way to his brain. He sucked in a deep breath, letting autopilot take over while his mind buzzed with the new sensation. He must’ve been mirroring the dopey smile from Ethan, because the smaller man leaned forward to rub his cheek against Mark’s.

The few hairs he had tickled against his olive skin. Playfully shoving him, Mark’s smile reached his eyes, crinkling them and pointing the edges up. The gesture was countered with Ethan wrapping his arms around his middle and driving him back. There was no heat behind their moves, only passive motions to make an excuse to touch the other playfully. Mark was happy to oblige, grabbing Ethan under his armpits to bring him up and into a headlock. 

His view was broken up by the escaped bubbles of laughter from his captive, so he brought his head down lower so he could press his head against Ethan’s. He could feel the reverberations of laughter from him as he spun him around faster and faster until neither could hold on.

They were both dizzy, and giggling like fools. Slow muscles and cloudy eyes, nothing between them but open water and open desires. Mark formed an ‘O’ with his mouth, blowing a ring of air into Ethan’s face. 

His eyes squinted at the sensation, scrunching up his nose and an impressed grin beaming at him.  _ So trumpet lessons weren’t a waste.  _ Mark didn’t want to brag, but learning an instrument had given him another skill.

His blown out irises focused on Ethan, the details behind him blurring away.  _ Ethan Ethan Ethan,  _ pounded his heart, enamored on the illuminated figure laid out before him in the endless water. 

Swiftly, he had his hand tight on the back of his neck, drawing him in. 

The delicious poison in his veins made his lips electric, the kiss amplified. Ethan saw stars behind his eyes when Mark kissed him harder, needing him- wanting  _ him.  _ His toned arms wrapped tight around his waist, fingers sprawling and desperate to feel every inch of skin.

They were sinking lower, but the entangled pair were too busy to bother with anything other than the sensation of falling deeper into each other. Mark made the effort to bring himself higher than Ethan, biting at his bottom lip and overtaking him completely. 

When he realized they’d reached the sand, he broke off to push Ethan onto his back, flat and laid out just for him. Ethan made that familiar, high-pitched excited giggle as he gazed eagerly up at the man. 

Mark palmed at his chest gently, lowering himself to suck and nip at the smooth skin. Leaving traces of him,  _ his  _ marks between the traces of new skin. With every touch he could feel and hear the low groans, the body writhing beneath him despite his efforts to hold him still. His brain was sluggishly throwing ideas at him that were frustrating because they weren’t possible because there was nothing to grab, or hold. No familiar territory. 

He’d wrongly assumed that his confidence would carry them through, because they were both guys, they wanted the same thing. But Mark was lost. He’d left a trail of hot kisses burning all the way down to the thin trail of hair under his belly button, but beyond that….just scales. 

Ethan, confused by the sudden loss of heat, raised his head up from where he’d thrown it back to see Mark staring at his skin with a perplexed look mingled with anger.  _ Anatomy lesson,  _ came a stupid thought, and he held back a drunk grin. Pushing him off the sand, he hovered over Mark, one hand anchoring him to his collarbone, and the other slipping down lower.

Mark couldn’t pry his eyes away, his body alight with hope to bring an end to the strain. His hands fumbled around Ethan, dragging him down closer to rut against him shamelessly. He watched as Ethan’s slender fingers poked around under his scales, searching and slipping further until they connected with something that had Mark reeling.

A choked gasp, intermittent with a deep rumble from his chest filled the water around them, a shroud of heavy bubbles forming around them from the pants and gasps.  _ There it is.  _

Ethan works his hand up and down, nice and slow despite how painfully hard Mark feels. He’s in the same boat, but he forces himself to focus because the little noises and growls Mark’s making just might be the death of him. 

With a hard roll of his hips, Mark grabs tight to Ethan and brings him down to hide his face in the crook of his neck because  _ fuck it’s been a while.  _ And his  _ hands.  _ Those hands he’d seen work fast and quick were agonizingly slow, thumbing over the tip of his cock and working back up again to make just enough friction to drive him crazy. 

“P-Plea-”

A tight squeeze had the words lost in his throat. Chest heaving, he forced the words, his brain forgetting their depth under the surface. “Pl- _ Please.  _ Faster.”

The garbled noise reached Ethan, his words spurring him on.  _ Finally.  _ He rolled his wrist, lavishing the strangled whine and ramping up the speed. His free hand was digging into Mark’s back, holding him up to give Ethan full access to the unmarked skin on his neck. 

The smooth motions of Ethan’s warm hand working quickly up and down his shaft, and Ethan’s bruising kisses contrasted with the cool water around them. Mark had lost his ability to care about anything other than his hand, and was practically  _ growling  _ as he rocked his hips and buried his face in Ethan.

_ Ethan. Ethan. Ethan.  _ His one-track mind was overwhelmed with the obscene thoughts of all the things they could do. His mantra was his rhythm, following the pace Ethan had set and his name on Mark’s lips. 

An almost painful sucking kiss to his pulse point paired with a strong pull to the base of his cock sent him tumbling over the edge. He threw his head back, mouth open and pouring nonsense as he came.

His release formed a foggy cloud around them, dissipating quickly into the saltwater. The hot, damp pressure of Ethan’s mouth on his brought him back down, but the euphoric and fleeting rush of hormones and chemicals left him boneless and empty.

Fucked soft and suddenly tired, he was moved pliantly on his side, with Ethan moving next to him to be the big spoon.  _ What about you? _ He tried to speak, finding his mouth suddenly fuzzy and dry. Ethan purred in response, nuzzling him with his rounded nose and sucking lazily on his earlobe. 

Entangled, he was grounded against Ethan and yet lost to the light sensations of his ministrations. He rolled his head into him, letting him do whatever he wanted because he was too tired to reciprocate.

When Ethan felt his breathing even out, he tucked the warm body even closer and let himself fall away with him. 

  
  



	19. {Technical Human Difficulties}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Due to the fact that I was packing all week, and moving in today, there is no new chapter today😥 It should be posted by tomorrow, but in the meantime, please enjoy this last picture of me and Stiletto, who went to her forever home and is recovering well

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Kny9Us1QkOBXIlERIHVoLKA4bV0QIFQO/view?usp=sharing>


	20. Look How Far We've Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hungover morning of physical and mental strain, so Mark and Ethan enjoy some time to themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but yay! I am all moved!

Now, Mark had a very real hangover. Safely assuming it was from the fish, he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. It was one of the rare moments he was up before Ethan, and his headache ensured he wasn’t going back to sleep.

Giving up on sating the thunder in his skull, he roused Ethan, hoping to get started on breakfast. There was some convincing, and it was only after Mark had started to tickle him that the smaller man got moving. Albeit groggily. 

Ethan rose like a deflating balloon, swimming up with an ache in his head and rot in his gut. He’d forgotten about the side effects, and they were catching him with a strong left hook. He threw a look over his shoulder when Mark tugged at his arm. His expression was sickly, and he shook his head and nodded towards the deep.  _ Too hot. _

Frowning, Ethan held his wrist against his forehead. He seemed a little warm, but not feverish.  _ I’ll keep an eye on you,  _ he decided.

A lazy, and disappointing, meal of bottom feeders kept them going for longer than expected. Long enough for Ethan to do some scrounging for better food. Sea snails, early shoots of grass, and a fat crab. The perfect cure for pufferfish. They’d need more nutritious foods if they were going to make up any distance this evening.

With his head resting in Mark’s lap, they had a light picnic along the edges of a small reef. Playfully, he showed him how to dig into the shells and get to the good stuff. Mark wasn’t enthusiastic, but he wasn’t a quitter either. There was more flavor than fish….not a  _ good  _ flavor….but, flavor. 

Unimpressed, he stared down at Ethan, giggling at him like he was watching a toddler eating his vegetables.  _ Asshole,  _ he signed without hesitation. 

That only had him giggling harder. Before Mark could sign a few more choice words, he caught sight of another aquatic mammal. Sleek and speedy, they played just a few feet from the pair, squeaking and biting lightly with each other. Mark pointed his finger at them, raising an eyebrow at Ethan, who had seen them as well.  _ What’s the word for that? _

His left hand pointed out, and his whole arm wiggled up and down.  _ Dolphin. _

Mark had his eyes trained on them, fascinated by the novelty of having them so close in their natural environment. There was an anxious feeling in his gut, his predatory instincts telling him to protect what was his from others. Ethan’s happy little noises tuned those out.  _ Is he… is that baby talk for mermaids? _

_ I wonder what he was like when he was a baby.  _

_ What do baby mermaids even look like? _

_ Probably weird. _

His thoughts simmered around in his head for a good period, the unimportant lumps of his brain trained on the pod of dolphins teasing fish off in the distance. They were in their element. The ocean was their home. Mark didn’t have one yet.  _ We...close to home?  _ He signed out of the blue.  _ Need star? _

Shaking his head, Ethan had a soft look for him.  _ We passed the halfway point. It’s all landmarks now. _

_What?_ _We are?_

The resounding yes had him breathless. He ran a hand through his mop of hair, sliding it down the scruff along his cheeks. God, how much time had he lost down here? Mark moved his jaw around slowly, regretting opting-out of shaving. He kinda hated that he could feel all the little hairs catch in the water. He probably looked homeless.  _ Add mirrors to the list of things I’m going to miss. _

Ethan, who had begun napping, was unwillingly moved from his spot as Mark swam off to gather some materials. Lazily, he watched him snag an unlucky fish and dig into it with little care for the meat. He let him struggle for a minute or so before interjecting. 

He grabbed what was once the ribcage from Mark’s unknowing hands, gnawing at the edges to give them a nice, sharp line. Ethan extended the tool with a curious expression.  _ Do you wanna do this or…. _

With a resigned sigh, Mark gave him a pleading look.  _ God, just..just don’t kill me. _

Ethan, on the other hand, had no qualms. Mirrors were hard to come by; he and his brother had helped each other out before they’d learned how to shave solo. For him, it was easy.

Mark did not see it that way.

How he’d ended up with his neck exposed and coming closer to a razor sharp boone was a mystery to him. His body, fighting against him, shook harder with every closing inch between him and Ethan. 

Refusing to breathe, he could feel the slice of every hair along his sensitive, and very tender, skin. This was how he would die, he was sure of it. No matter how slow Ethan went, it was too fast. Too careless. He was going to bleed out any second, Mark was already thinking about what would be on his gravestone.

Cooing and humming, Ethan was doing his best to calm him. Snippets of songs and gentle tones couldn’t relax the stiff stretch of skin, so he worked diligently to end Mark’s suffering. 

It didn’t help that Mark’s terrified gasps at every swipe were dissolving him into giggles. It seemed like such a silly thought, Ethan wasn’t going to  _ cut  _ him, he was doing just fine! In fact, he’d finished up with his neck and was now moving towards his mustache. Or, whatever that thin strip of hair was. 

The ridiculously wide eyes were glued to Ethan’s hands, watching him with pinprick irises. As he paused to inspect his work, Mark took the chance to breathe. He huffed a few breaths, sucking in as much oxygen as he could before freezing up when Ethan began working again.

When he could finally see the bone be tossed away, he deepened the rise of his chest, letting out measured takes of air and relaxing. As Ethan thumbed over some of the rougher areas, Mark was allowing his heart to beat again. And ignoring the teasing noises from Ol’ Sweeney Todd himself.

_ Never again,  _ he reminded Ethan, staring him down.

_ Baby. _

Mark, affronted, made a face.  _ Am not! _

_ Little bald baby _

_ Shut up! _

Ethan slipped out of his grab easily, laughing harder with Mark’s failed attempts to grab at him. He twisted in a downward spiral, easy and carefree. Unlike his slower companion.

Slower, but smarter.

Before he could slip away, Mark wrapped his hands around the tapered end of his tail, and with a heaving pull, had Ethan flying into his arms. He fought well, squirming and squeaking as Mark attacked his neck and bare chest. Mark couldn’t get enough of him, and once it started he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Blood rushing, skin tingling-It felt sinfully good to rough around with him like this. Some twisted sensation that Ethan was  _ his.  _ That he and Mark were the only perfect match in the ocean. When Mark got tired of the fight, he pinned Ethan’s arms together and left long, hungry kisses on his collar. Ethan was his fuel, and every low noise of pleasure was a splash of gasoline to the heat in his gut. His skin was the map on which Ethan traced his fingers, running them down his sides and moving lower. Until Mark grabbed his wrists. 

Watching him with darkened irises, he broke the hold only to make a single move.  _ Your turn. _


	21. Give and Take (*Smut*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's ready to give Ethan everything they've both been wanting

Mark’s hands don’t know where to go, but Ethan is more than willing to direct him. His fingers slip down under his scales rougher than he’d planned, but the reaction he gets is almost enough to make him come right there. 

His whole body tenses up, and Ethan’s mouth parts in a desperate pant. Mark’s hand is slick and firm, the pressure on his dick sending his brain into fits. He rolls into the touch, arms flying around Mark’s shoulders and holding on for dear life with fingers leaving bruises.

Mark twists his wrist, asserting his strength and easily holding Ethan tight with his free hand. Hot, and firm, and unbelievably slick, he slides up and down his cock at a steady pace. Not fast enough to bring him over the edge, but not slow enough that he’d get whiny. When Ethan bucks up, he tightens his grip a little more. Forgetting himself, Ethan mumbles curses into the water, letting the noise become bubbles and float away from him.  _ Faster harder more more more.  _

Ethan moans, low and pained, and Mark moves in to graze his teeth along the defined collarbone looking sinfully bare. He lets his fingers drag hard on the underside of Ethan’s cock. Ethan moves his hands to get better leverage, rocking and twisting as much as he can. He knows he looks ridiculous, and all his focus is on that lustfully calculated look on Mark’s face as he takes him apart lovingly.

He decides hastily that this is not enough.

Pushing back, he catches Mark’s attention.  _ More? _

Mark can’t breathe. He’s harder than ever, and despite having no knowledge of what Ethan wants to do, it has to be good. His mind is gone, but he nods slowly, relinquishing control to let Ethan get into position.

He flips himself around, grinding his ass in Mark’s lap without shame. Mark grabs his hips, meeting him with stronger intensity, but there’s a method to Ethan’s movement. He slides himself around, trying to angle himself and having no patience to explain. 

When Mark runs his hands appreciatively over the perfect curve of his ass, his finger slips down under his scales and Ethan fucking  _ purrs.  _ Mark moves a second finger in, curling them and letting the drag work Ethan up more and more. He’s trying to take it slow, halting his pace so he can at least try and have some class. It’s easier than he’d imagined-the movement of his fingers, not the restraint. His caveman brain is  _ begging  _ him to start pounding his tight ass. 

Ethan’s not having any of that. He’s gone practically feral, pupils overshadowing his eyes and chest heaving. His arms fall behind him, digging into Mark’s sides and grinding down hard. Mark winces, nearly having his hand crushed and finally thinking  _ fuck it.  _ Gingerly, so it doesn’t catch on his scales, he unsheathes his dick and presses in. 

His forehead finds its way against the curves of Ethan’s back, swallowing hard. He just needs a minute, just a second so doesn’t immediately come because  _ god damn.  _ He’s tight and slick and Mark is losing himself. Ethan’s got his head tucked down against his chest, his grip loosening a fraction before he gives an experimental slide of his hips. The noises he’s rewarded with make him grin, and he looks over his shoulder to show Mark just how pleased he is himself. 

He’d been trying to hide his embarrassment, but that smug look on his face would not be tolerated. Digging his hands into Ethan’s middle, he thrusts up without mercy. Their hips slam together, and Ethan falls back into him.  _ Fuck, have we always been this flexible? _ . His head lands on his shoulder, arms flailing and gasping mutely. Mark sinks his teeth deep into the skin, not yet letting him bleed, but making damn sure he knows who’s in charge.

Neither are inexperienced. Mark was wanted well before he lived in the water, and mermaids aren’t known for celibacy. But the quiet, burning moments at night, and the hungry kisses leading to nowhere have built up a deep want between them. A slow burn building and breaking in the moment. 

Mark relishes the slide and burn of the brutal pace. There’s no bed frame to smack his head against, no neighbors to complain about the noise, no mess. It’s perfect,  _ he’s  _ perfect. And Ethan is  _ his.  _ Mark’s made damn sure of that.

He runs his tongue over the bite, composing himself enough to control the pace while Ethan whines in his ear. His fingers count every rib, the skin pulled back tight into the wanting arch of Ethan’s back. His thrusts are hard and slow, rolling his hips and feeling the sparks of pleasure burn all the way down to his fins. 

Ethan picks up the pace for him, bouncing his lower half up and down on Mark’s cock and not taking ‘slow and steady’ for an answer. He’d grown aggressive, taking what he wants and lavishing the reverberated grunts from beneath him. He’s sure Mark will deny them later, but he can always make him beg again. 

The thought of Mark begging for him has him alight in so many ways. He angles his hips more to the left, taking him deeper. Mark loses his rhythm, hips stuttering and growing louder. A few more good thrusts and he’s buried himself in Ethan, coming hard and forgetting to breathe.

The only reason his chest keeps moving is because Ethan is still thrusting up and down, struggling to reach his peak. Overstimulation was a bitch, and as much as he wants to savor the image of him riding his cock, Mark reaches around and slides his hand securely around Ethan’s cock Once, twice, three good strokes and he’s done for.

Ethan comes hard, his muscles giving out as he relaxes into Mark’s arms. Mark has to hold him because his body has turned to jelly and is threatening to float away. The angle is not good for his softening cock, and he has to reposition Ethan so nothing gets turned the wrong way.

In a rare moment, Ethan is complete putty in his arms. No twitching, no chattering. Only blissed out hums as he lets his arms hang around Mark’s side and nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck. Mark brings his hands up to sign with a weary look of pleasure on his face.  _ We’re never going to get there,  _ he says teasingly.

_ I’ve got time,  _ Ethan responds blearily, slowly gaining his strength. He pushes himself up, slotting his mouth against Mark’s and kissing him lazily. Mark smoothes back his hair, breaking the kiss with his smirk.  _ You’re needy. _

_ And hungry,  _ Ethan thought to himself. He always was after a good fuck, and he peels himself off Mark to grab something quick. Mark’s right behind him, helping him find their dinner because the both of them lack any semblance of agility right now.

They don’t make it far before the sun breaks through the water. In their frenzy, they’d brought themselves closer to the surface. Mark was finding he didn’t like the way the sun hit his skin. It burned a little too much against his eyes and exposed flesh. 

_ I don't think I’m sick,  _ he pondered. He wasn’t sick, he was….well, he was like Ethan. Meant to prowl the deep, no need for sunlight or warm temperatures. That’s what he figured, at least. 

The alluring softness of the sand dragged them down, and soon enough they were curled up in the soft fronds. Ethan had snuggled up against his back, lavishing the heat from the other body. He stayed up for a while, mindlessly running his fingers through Mark’s hair.

He knew it was all real. But he couldn’t deny the part of himself that always worried that it was all some dream. His head came to rest on Mark’s bicep, his eyes remaining open.  _ I love you. _

There was some regret in the morning. Mostly that he hadn’t let Mark really warm him up before their….activity. His ass was going to be sore all day, he already knew it. It was all worth it, he knew that too. 

As they swam, low and deep, Mark seemed to have adjusted well. He moved in a straight line, eyes trained ahead with ease. His swimming had improved greatly, a rhythm had finally emerged. Ethan couldn’t be prouder. 

The landmarks are getting clearer. Closer together, closing the distance. There’s a knot in Ethan’s stomach, forming tight and enlarging with every meter. Half-formed fears circle his brain. They’re stupid. Irrational. He knows that. Right?

_ What if mom isn’t there? _

_ What if she’s hurt? _

_ What if she doesn’t want to see me? _

_ What if- _

He lets out a choked screech, his distracted head slamming against a rock outcrop. His hands fly to his forehead, muttering sorely under his breath. Mark approaches him cautiously.  _ You okay?  _

Ethan pushes his hands away.  _ Fine. Just distracted. _

_ We getting close? _

Ethan nods, wincing at the pain banging around in his head. Mark cradles his head in his hands, his large fingers almost meeting all the way around his skull. He checks for any damage, declares him ‘just fine’, and smooches the injury for dramatic flair. His cheering up doesn’t help.

Ethan looks sullen, head-in-the-clouds in a bad way. There’s an anxious touch in the way he rubs his hands over the faint, patchy, scruff on his jaw. He needs a distraction.  _ Hey,  _ Mark starts gently,  _ How about a shave? _

The returning look is confusion, but not an abhorrent ‘no’. Fetching his tools, Mark makes them comfortable against the water worn rocks. He’s never actually shaved someone else before. Considering his makeshift bone knife isn’t even close to achieving the sharpness of a razor, he’s probably fine.

As the tool works sharply along the baby hairs, Ethan’s hands move slowly. Mark only catches a few words, but it looks like he’s got Ethan calm enough to actually talk about what’s going on.  _ Haircut therapy would be a great business. _

He tries to follow along, while also providing a good shave. 

_ Stupid fears- _

Swish, swish

_ What if- _

Swish, swish

_ My mom- _

Swish, swish, and done! He moves the flat plain of his fingers over the area, and damn, he’s actually not bad at this. Ethan seems keen to keep talking, so Mark makes another suggestion.  _ Haircut? _

_ Sure, whatever. _

Examining his face shape, he made a mental list of what style would suit him best. Ethan couldn’t pull off the long, flowing style he had, he needed something a little cleaner. Not a shave down, something with a little on the sides?

An undercut!

That’d be nice. Mark could already see his hands petting the soft fuzz and moving his thumbs in the longer hair on top. Yeah, this could work. 

Carefully, so as not to wind up with a bowl cut, he lifted up the hair around his temples. His hands were moving constantly, lifting up the top tiers of hair and shaving away slowly at the scraggly bits underneath. Steadily, so as not to cut unevenly while Ethan signed away, he made progress. 

With every lifted layer, he cut with three swipes to a breath. Not a perfect measurement, but he was getting somewhere. The longer hair up top wasn’t really doing that ‘swoosh’ he wanted. If only he could get his toughened hands on some product. Quick on his feet (fins?) Mark gave a good lick to each of his palms, noticing his salvia had thickened (weird) and fluffed up the final product of his master haircut. 

It really wasn’t bad. Even-ish, plenty of volume, and exactly what he wanted.  _ Shit.  _ He’d gotten carried away. Ethan didn’t want it long, did he? Did he even ask Ethan what he wanted?  _ Shit shit shit- _

_ What’s up?  _ He asked innocently, noticing the stillness.

Mark fumbled for words.  _ You...maybe...well...How do you like it? _

His eyes were trained cautiously on Ethan’s hands as they inspected his head. The thoughtful expression made it hard to gauge how much he’d fucked up, but when he looked up at him with that sweet softness, Mark could finally breathe.

_ I like it,  _ he signed shyly.  _ I’ve never had it like this before. _

_ You look great,  _ he says earnestly. 

And he does. 

His wounds have healed into faded yellow bruises, the dark smudges under his eyes have faded into a peachy gray, and the anxiety has rested it’s head for the moment. To Mark, Ethan was a healed brokenness personified. He was hope. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd end it with some fluff to balance it out, let me know what you think!


	22. Mallerie is Doing Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Mallerie's new owners have sent me some pics of her and she is doing wonderful. She's especially fond of the barn and has made new friends

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oaG6doU541PdQRmrnu4L8OvrNodbObZz/view?usp=drivesdk>


	23. It's A Nice Day For Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been raining constantly here, and I love it

<https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qJRj6VFZtrqoWH2vEHXW1qiOJVuf1nUe/view?usp=sharing>


	24. Of Acquaintances And Afterthoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer they get, the more questions they have. Mark learns just how long Ethan's been away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late night post because my computer died this weekend, but! I'm back!

Ethan was chattering more and more. New noises Mark hadn’t ever really heard before. Almost like signing, but more like he was calling out to someone. It was just nice to see him so happy. Not like ‘Disneyland’ happy, a comfortable happy. They’d passed through the greatest trials, and could now afford the luxury of peace.

He observed the scenes around them while Ethan’s voice flowed through the background. They’d gone even deeper, and with the colder water came relief from the sickness he’d been feeling. His appetite had doubled now as well, although it was a shame that most of the fish this deep weren’t as bright and colorful as the ones that swam closer to the sun. 

Mark let his fingers drift through the short grass clinging to the sand with shallow roots. Soft, and used to living in the dark. Untouched by anyone but him, and growing in small valleys in the soothing cradle of the night. And there was Ethan, eyes wandering and completely lost in his head.  _ What an idiot. My idiot. _

His hand brushed against a few rocks, and it should make sense that there would be some down here, but as he lifted his head, Mark realized it was a large pile. Turning to Ethan, he’d gone quiet, stilling in the water and looking around slowly. There were  _ tons  _ of piles, long and thin and spread out over a large area. 

Some of the larger rocks sitting atop the mounds had words Mark couldn’t fathom speaking. One or two were in foreign words that actually looked like a language, and there were a few rough drawings of animals or a mermaid figure. Looking over, Ethan had dipped back into a quieter state, mute and somber.

Mark learned a new word.

Both hands touching opposite thumbs, pointed out before bringing them back towards the chest to partially have his palms facing out.

_ Cemetery. _

Blinking quickly, Mark looked around and mentally tallied the grave markers.  _ That’s….damn. That’s a lot.  _

There were older sites with algae on the rocks and teeny fish swimming in and out of the crevices, and others with sea grass strands folded into shapes that had yet to shrivel up; they were still new. 

_ We’re on the west edge, one more day till we hit the colony. _

Mark gripped his hand. Another day? Jesus. So soon? Did they have shops? Would they need jobs? 

His fingers worked into Ethan’s palm like a stress ball for the both of them. It’s clearly an area of solemness, with water that was thick and filled with the salt of stolen tears. Mark wonders how many of the graves Ethan’s familiar with.

They’re still pushing ahead, neither wanting to spend a period of rest here.  _ Ghost mermaids,  _ Mark thinks,  _ That’s the creepiest thing right now. Why did I do that to myself? _

A bellowing call broke his thought, and he instinctively drew Ethan closer to him. But his partner has perked up at the noise. It’s not an angry tone, Mark senses the curiosity and reproachfulness from the stranger who appears slowly from the distance.

An old man, with long white hair braided behind him and a beard to put them both to shame. He wore a shirt of scars, from work and life that told a story across his aged skin. The pale eyes still shine with a bright soul, and they’re surrounded by freckles and age lines. There’s a tune on his lips, three short notes that have Ethan alert.

He darted away from Mark, much to his shock, swimming right up to the man and grinning in a bittersweet way. The old man grabs his shoulders, his notes coming in low grumbles as he talks to Ethan in a knowing way. 

Finally, he spots Mark approaching, and stares at him with a puzzled scowl. Ethan’s quick to his side, hovering arm-to-arm and signing their greetings.  _ Mark, this is Hulst, the soul-keeper. _

_ Soul-keeper?  _ Mark asks.

_ I watch over the graves,  _ Hulst signs with pride.  _ Make sure none get poked at. _

Ethan nods along, introducing Mark with a wide smile.  _ This is Mark, my mate. _

He can’t help the blush, it’s weird for Mark to really have himself labeled as someone’s ‘mater’. It was accurate, just...new. New and weird.  Hulst seems to generally approve of him. He starts and stops a few odd words before asking if they’d like to stay for dinner.  _ The early’s coming soon, Ethan’s always been a solid help, I’ve got room if y’all want to rest.  _

_ We don’t want to put you out,  _ Ethan signs,  _ You probably have work to do- _

_ Nonsense! Wouldn’t want you ending up here permanently.  _ His laugh is an off-putting higher pitch than his voice, and Mark is now very worried they are rooming with a murderous hermit. Ethan’s on board though, and he knows him, and Mark could take him. 

It’s a short distance to what appears to be his home, a large island of rock painted with abstract spirals of glowing algae. Warm green tones filter through the light, and Mark can see small openings that must make windows in the cluster of rock.  They swim up to the top of the structure, where a glossy black hatch made of thin rock is secured into divots of the surrounding material.  _ Volcanic rock,  _ Hulst explains,  _ From an old trip to the Growing Islands.  _

_ I’ve been there!  _ Ethan signs excitedly.

_ I’d love to hear about it, Bo. _

Mark catches Ethan’s attention with a confused look. 

_ It’s like ‘friend’. _

Swimming down through the hatch reveals an open, roughly circle shaped area with rough walls and sand covering the floor. There’s a large chunk of rock with the undersides chipped away to function as a short table in the center, and they’re instructed to take their places.  Ethan naturally rests his elbows on the surface, letting his tail drift behind him. Mark copies the motions, trying to make himself comfortable. They’ve never eaten at a table together, his manners are rusty. 

The menu consists mostly of the ‘specially grown’ seagrass taken from a window sill, a few fish snagged along the way, and clippings of a strange coral designated to a spot above what looked like a larger version of a mortar and pestle.  It doesn’t matter what they eat anyways, because soon enough stories are being shared and they just  _ talk.  _ New stories, funny moments, observations, it’s all pouring out from all of them and Mark soaks it up like a sponge. 

And  _ Ethan.  _ He’s been away from home for so long. From the casual way they discuss their lengthy, and solitary visits to other oceans, it’s a custom. But Mark can’t fathom leaving home and having no contact with any friends or family. Being so self reliant that all he would have is his memory. It sounds horrible.

But soon enough, Ethan rounds his story to their discovery. Hulst watches them intently, his chin resting on his folded hands. His eyes are wide in their sockets, brows furrowed tight against his forehead. 

_ I’ve never heard of something like that,  _ he admits.  _ You said your mother told you about that? _

_ Yes. I never even considered it to be true. _

_ She always did have a big imagination.  _ Hulst smiles, lost in a memory.  _ She was always good to my wife and I. She’ll be in a twist to know you’re back _

_ I know _

_ It’s good to have you back. _

They talk until their arms are sore, until their faces hurt from smiling, until there was nothing left of them. In a good way. 

Ethan used to be terrible at spelling, he’d spelled his name ‘Eef’ one too many times to forget. It was rumored that he had grown up so skinny because he had been a poor hunter.

Hulst had been around the globe twice, and had a rock garden outside his home with several mementos from his visits. Ethan tried electric eel meat near the Amazon. It was okay.

Hulst had fought off seventeen dolphins and a shark, with the scars to prove it. His late wife had created the artwork of glowing algae in and out of their home, as well as the detailed carvings into the walls of the two of them.  _ She was talented,  _ he muses.  _ There’s still some of her work in town. _

Mark shared a few stories of his own, but it was hard to relate with the other men. Thankfully, they were going off to their rooms soon enough. A thin tunnel off of the kitchen area split off into two bedrooms, with homemade curtains of seagrass to give some privacy. Their own room was long enough to accommodate them, but the width was a squeeze. He  _ was _ going to be able to sleep in a real bed, and  _ wow.  _ Mark had been deprived. 

Contained by a frame of rocks was a base of sand covered with a thick layer of a moss-like substance. Soft, and fuzzy and yielding to his weight. He found difficulty in floating, but Ethan made himself comfortable on his chest, weighing him down and snuggling his bony arms around his sides. 

He gives up tracing patterns on his skin after a pause.  _ I didn’t know you were gone...so long. _

_ Yeah.  _ Ethan lifts his head, fatigue wearing on his features.  _ It’s kind of expected. See the world, maybe settle down somewhere else.  _

_ Must be hard on your parents. _

He frowns, shrugging his shoulders.  _ People still visit, it’s not forever.  _

_ Guess I’m not used to your traditions. _

_ Well- _ Ethan taps his nose- _ I’m not going anywhere.  _

Mark could ask him more about his family, about the brother he’d mentioned, and maybe about where they were supposed to be living. Instead, he tucks Ethan’s head down on his chest, gives him a lazy kiss, and puts the complications away. He can afford to be comfortable tonight. 

They both can.


	25. There's a Rat in the Server

Bear with me if you can! Having some major personal difficulties, but the full chapter will be up as promised on Sunday-as well as some extras....


	26. New Orbit, New Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Ethan take a word of advice from their host before moving on into the colony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much to write!! Ahhh!! Everything comes to an end, but we still have chapters to go-also, some art!

[https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gL7qhhfV5faDc9aYUR3DK3uhrE5QQAQw/view?usp=sharing<br />](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gL7qhhfV5faDc9aYUR3DK3uhrE5QQAQw/view?usp=sharing<br%20/>)

Mark’s up before Ethan, and he rests in the moment while he can. There’s no worry for hunting, no uncomfortable nest he’s squeezed into, no shadows to be wary of. He’s at peace, and the weight of a good sleep behind his eyes. He hopes all the beds around here are this comfortable. And that Ethan's in his.

There’s a pressing itch on his back, and in a futile attempt to reach it he’s got Ethan stirring. He looks up blearily before pressing his head back down against Mark’s chest. _Good morning_ , he hums, ruffling his hair with a lazy hand. 

Ethan mumbles in response, making an attempt to go back to sleep and drag Mark down with him. It fails, because soon enough Mark is hungry and ready to get moving. He rolls over and forces the weight on his chest to move along as well. They bump into each other in the tunnel to the kitchen, both pressed against tight together in the confines of the passageway.

Breakfast is waiting for them at the table already. Hulst toys with the bones of something while bidding them both greetings. It’s no feast, but they’re both quick to make apologies. Ethan especially so, his aging friend shouldn’t have to feed the both of them. _We would have helped you, I’m sorry, we overslept-_

 _Nonsense!_ He waves them off, helping himself to a bite. _Been a while since I actually got to go on a real hunt. Besides, the Hawkers don’t go ‘round these parts, got plenty around here._

Ethan frowns in distaste-he was raised with _manners._ It was rude for him to miss out to help like this, but there’s no use in fighting the past. The leisurely atmosphere shifts downward as Hulst settles himself across from them. His arms lay in a sphinx-like position, his eyes dead set on them. _Listen, boys. There’s something I gotta get straight before you head into the colony._

They exchange glances between themselves before eyeing Hulst. _What? What is it?_ Ethan signs nervously, setting his meal aside.

 _You..._ He sighs. _You just can’t mention your...circumstance when you get there._

Mark’s stunned. _You mean-like, because we’re…._ He points a finger at himself, then Ethan. 

He snorts, a short huff of bubbles coming to rest on the low ceiling. _No. That’s nothing, yah seal paw. It’s, well...listen, when they ask where you’re from, just tell ‘em you’re from around that island. A wanderer, not a colonist, there’ll be less questions._

Shouldering his way back into the conversation, sharp lines crease Ethan’s forehead. _Why not? This is...this...people are going to be shocked! It’s true!_ He lifts his palms, face falling. _Shouldn’t they know?_

Hulst toys with the long scruff on his chin. _It’s complicated like that._

 _How?_ He presses.

_It just is._

_How_ _?_

The old man softens like an aged callous. He’s unwilling, but saddened. _I’d just hate to see you driven out like that. You’re a good pup, Ethan. Your friend, too._

Mark draws himself closer, willing him to continue and speaking up. _We need to know._

He drops his head into a hand, massaging his temple and squinting in what looks like pain. There’s a moment where it seems he’s gone silent, but his hands slowly take shape. _There were old stories...before most of the others here. Mates without pups, getting desperate. We heard the stories from all over, different, but the same. Kids gettin’ snatched from the shore and given scales._ He shakes his head. _Just terrible._

 _But that’s not true!_ Ethan stresses. _No one would do something like that. It’s...it’s horrible. They wouldn’t._

_Doesn’t matter. That kinda magic isn’t well liked and no one wants anything to do with that._

_But-but-you can’t just-_

_Ethan._ Mark grabs his hand tight. _It’s fine. I’ll be okay._

He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t fight it any longer.

Breakfast is a solemn affair, with a warm hug given to both of them before they part. Ethan swims with his arms crossed tight to his chest, head pointed forward and looking the part of a weather worn figurehead of a ship. He’s saddened, frustrated, and disappointed most of all. 

Mark keeps a close distance, but doesn’t press. He’s caught up in the view, staring out ahead at something that shines in the distance. The graves have shrunk and faded, leading into longer grass planted in specific rows. 

The field seems to grow forever. The strands are different from the wild ones they’ve seen before. Thicker, taller, grown more purposefully in the area. A few hours in and he’s seeing people in the distance as well. 

Ethan’s not bothered by them, but Mark watches them closely. They’re sparse and few between, working the fields with honed precision. Woven baskets sit tethered to their backs, with what looked like an opening in the side to hold the harvest. They seem to be working with tools, although it’s too far to tell what they’re using. He considers asking Ethan, but his sullen nature keeps him from doing so. Instead, he pries an arm out and holds his hand firmly. He’s still here. 

His mood does a quick reversal when a short call is directed at them. It’s mostly curious, albeit with a dash of mistrust. Ethan’s reply is lighter, more..familiar. The two figures in the distance come flying towards them without a thought, giving Mark no time to react before Ethan is taken from him. 

One has him in her arms and is spinning around wildly while the other tries to pry him free. The noises are happy, cheerful even, and Mark’s at a loss as to if he should be fighting or not. 

Breathlessly, Ethan frees himself. He chatters non-stop between pants, head bouncing between the both of them and smiling wide. Mark is noticed by the taller stranger, who bares her teeth protectively. 

Ethan’s sharp squeak pulls her back, and he’s quick to explain. _Mark, this is Vendanya and Tamarron. Guys, this is Mark...my mate,_ he adds shyly. 

Instantly, they’re on him. One is inspecting his hair while the other is grabbing at his face and inspecting his teeth, both humming in approval. He shoos them away, looking to Ethan for an explanation because _dammit-_ he is not a show horse.

 _These are my friends,_ he signs brokenly while pulling them away from his personal space. _That’s Vendanya-_ he points to the shorter female, who sports tight braids with dark skin and bright eyes. _And that’s Tamarron-_ he points to the tallest, who shares similar features but with a pearl-like red tail, while the other has a deeper reddish brown. They both have the same facial structure, but there’s clearly an age difference. 

He doesn’t get much time anyways to think about it, Vendanya is immediately back in his face and signing rapidly. _Where’d you meet? How long have you known him? Are you a good hunter? You have to be, right? You’re not-_

Her sister chirps aggressively, shoving her away. _You’re embarrassing!_ She swoops a hand back through her thick hair, smiling apologetically. _Hi._

_Uh, hi._

She swiftly embraces him, and when she pulls away, there’s a soft look on her face. _Thank you for bringing him back._

 _Hey!_ Ethan pulls Vendanya away from his hair. _Technically, I brought him back._

 _No more talking!_ The shorter sister tugs at their arms. _You guys have got to get into the colony! Your mom’s going to lose it if you’re not back before early._

 _And dinner,_ pipes up Tamarron. _We can catch up on the way._

So. Many. Questions. Mark’s hands were cramping up, and they weren’t even halfway through. They were sparse with the details on his home, but their trip was well detailed. He was surprised Ethan didn’t talk more about his time alone away from the colony. 

_You had your first fight?!_ Vendanya gasps, a hand resting dramatically on her chin. 

_Yup._ Ethan proudly points out the jagged scar on his arm. _She was vicious, almost took my ear off._

 _You should feel lucky._ Tamarron nudges Mark with an elbow. _Ethan couldn’t fight off an octopus._

 _That was one time!_ He scowls as Vendanya runs a teasing hand across his hair. She tries to do the same with Mark, and he politely shifts away from her. Only Ethan got to do that. She takes it in stride, adjusting her bag and swimming ahead. They’re quick, and twitchy, familiar enough with the area to swoop and curl with the natural rhythm of the water.

 _Mark!_ Tamarron calls out over the noise Ethan is making from his position in the headlock. _I love your scales! Do they run in your lines?_

 _In your family,_ Ethan clarifies, with a subtle nod of his head to hint what the answer should be.

_Uh, yeah. My mom’s the same._

_What a waste._ She butts her head against Ethan’s. _Your pups would have been gorgeous._

 _With_ _my_ _genes, maybe._ Mark laughs along, ignoring the petulant squeaks from Ethan. They break into a conversation about food, and that’s typical for them apparently because he’s rolling his eyes and finally breaking out of her arms. Mark nods along, but his attention was lost ahead.

There it is. 

Not what he could have ever imagined, and amazingly bright. 

Built up from between an open chasm lies Ethan’s home of the Hosgri colony. The gigantic plateau of ocean rock lies cracked open before them and teams with _life._ Real, real, life.

Mermaids of all ages swim and fly through the natural arches and smoothed holes in the surrounding rock. Large stretches connect the chasm, making veined bridges across the open swimway and create real estate for the hanging lanterns. As they approach, Mark realizes they aren’t lanterns, but netted bundles of glowing algae weighted by pebbles woven into the netting. The sway in the currents from the surrounding occupants, casting warm light across the rock. 

Large, natural murals swath the entrance. The algae that grows on the sides of the entrance is swirled into stylized wave patterns, moving and swaying with his eyes as they sweep over the art. 

Mark twists his head around comically, trying to see everything. People swim around him without a second thought, carrying bundles of plant life secured in packs or baskets, often accompanied by a partner and humming away.   
There’s enough noise to create a sensory overload, and he sticks close to Ethan because there is a good chance he’s going to be lost. It’s larger than he could have possibly imagined. It’s a literal city. Colony was truly a misleading term.

Every available space and nook was taken. Scavenged and grown goods decorate the occupied spaces, all the outward facing outcrops hosting what looked like an interconnected marketplace all around them. He spots a few stands offering planks of wood and lost items from the above water dwellers. He’s aware Vendanya and Tamarron are still talking, but he’s lost the train of conversation a while back. 

That is, until they start shouting. Everyone and anyone receives the call. They’ve got their hands cupped around their mouths, calling out with the recklessness and wild freedom of youth. _Ethan’s back! Ethan’s back! Ethan’s back!_ _  
_A few repeat the call, with the majority simply cheering on with the excitement. Ethan’s blushing furiously, holding his hand tight and using his free hand to wave awkwardly back at the strangers in Mark’s eyes. He was continuously and utterly overwhelmed at the population.

They stalled in a flatter area along the bottom, where they’d been traveling. The center seemed to have been cut from the surrounding rock, with the outer material sitting in a rough border around the edge, to make room for the towering lump of rock jutting from the middle and creating an orbit from the mermaids encircling it’s exterior. 

That’s where they saw her.

She looked so much like Ethan. 

Her son.

The basket in her arms was shoved into that of her acquaintance when she sees him. Mark hangs back as Ethan flies towards her, watching as they collide. 

She throws her arms around him and grapples to hold him as tightly as she can. There’s tears in her eyes, and Ethan can’t help it as well. Blubbering nonsense, she’s running her hands across his arms and the scars there, through his hair and how it’s changed, and finally holding his head in her hands and smiling sadly. 

_My baby,_ she coos. _My baby. You’re home._

His throat tightens, and all he can do is nod. 

_I missed you so much._ She pulls him back in, holding as much of him as she can. Ethan presses into her, hiding his face and letting the emotion overtake him. She’s aged so little, still the same mother who taught him to hunt and sang to him when it was cold. He didn’t remember how much he missed her voice until he could finally hear it again. They shared the same inflection, but there was a unique melody to hers that never ceased to soothe him. 

Mark watched the embrace as a lonely bystander. Tamarron finally shoved him forward, chirping encouragingly. He gives a shy smile, accompanied with a wave when she spots him over her son’s shoulder. She looks to Ethan, and as soon as the words are formed she lunges at Mark and drags him into the hug. 

In their tight circle, the outside noise is forgotten. Mark’s held in an ironclad grip by a woman half his size, and in that overwhelming moment, it’s just them. _Mom,_ Ethan finally speaks up, _This is Mark. Mark, this is Milla, my mom._

When they break apart, she wipes away at the unseen tears on her face. _Oh gracious, what a mess._ She spots the girls, grinning like sharks. _You two still have your packs, best go return those and I’ll see you for dinner._

That’s got them smiling harder, and they swim up into the swirling highway of mermaids around the center rock, disappearing before their eyes. Mark and Ethan are promptly dragged off, with Ethan’s mom leading the way. She talks as they travel, swimming up and around people and rocks and stands. _There’s so much to do! Oh, we’ve got to invite your cousins, they’ve gotten back a few legs ago. Oh! It’s a good thing I’ve stocked up-_ _  
__What’s she talking about?_ Mark’s given up on keeping track of what all is going, but an update would be nice. 

Ethan snuggles up under him, letting Mark’s arm drape over his back as they swim. _We’re going home._


	27. Where Have You Been?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mermaids love a reason to celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1JYyEB5agGGncpNVCUUA2rVLxcD9b3T92/view?usp=sharing  
> Meant to have this done by yesterday, but homework is a pain in the butt! Anyways! Here we are, with a lil drawing for ya too

They don’t have far to swim, but they’ve certainly made themselves known. Mark feels the weight of many eyes on him, but he plays it off better than Ethan, who has squeezed himself tightly against him.

His mom leads the way, ducking and swimming around natural outcrops of rock and stretched tendrils of underwater plant growth. Mark’s got a stupid look on his face, and he indulges in the full tourist experience at the shocked amount of sheer life around him. There’s no empty space to fill with horrors from his mind, there are  _ others.  _ He could never have imagined it, and it’s beautifully overwhelming. 

Overwhelming is an excellent term for it, he feels like he might cry. Every lonely thorn stuck in his heart is burned away at sight of a thriving community, and it aches in the best way. His throat tightens, and Ethan feels the muscles tense. He runs his hand over Mark’s jaw, smoothing away the rough edges and doing what he does best-distracting.

He collects himself shortly. Swallowing it down, he presses a quick kiss to Ethan’s forehead, swimming ahead. 

They’re out of the worst of it now, towards an area pockmarked with hand fashioned doors and lettering Mark doesn’t recognize. She leads them towards one decorated with ornate carvings and specifically colored pieces of coral. It’s a square portal, with green shards fastening the edges. There’s an intersecting pattern of lines drawn through the center, forming four squares joined in the middle by a sculpture of a flower made from what appears to be chipped rock. 

She ushers them in, and down through the rabbit hole of old lava tubes. The walls have been scraped smooth by years of domestic living, forming old lines that lead them down deeper into Ethan’s home. Mark finds himself disappointed as he’s rushed into a living type area and away from the carvings on the walls. They seemed to have been the equivalent of family photos, but he didn’t get long to see them.

There’s another group of people waiting for them, and Mark can safely assume the oldest is Ethan’s father. He’s stoically quiet as he hugs his son, but there’s no denying the familiarity in the way he holds him. Arms locked around his son’s skinny shoulders, he finally has his son home. 

When Ethan breaks away, he quickly addresses the stranger amongst them.  _ This is my mate, Mark, from Daehanmingug.  _

_ Mark,  _ he signs excitedly,  _ this is my father, Draie, and my brother- _ he points towards the other man in the group,  _ -This is Andrew- _ and beside him is someone identified as Colee, his mate. Ethan falters when he sees the squirming child in his brother’s arms, and his brother smiles warmly at him.

_ This is your niece, Sella.  _ He offers him the little girl, who can’t be older than a year.  _ Want to meet her? _

With a stuttered nod, he draws the infant into his arms. She’s got her mom’s eyes, wide and curious as she watches him.  _ Hi,  _ he coos, playing with her tiny hand.  _ Hi, Sella.  _ He’s got a good grip on her, rocking her gently and showing her both he and Mark, her new uncles.

Until she smiles at him. 

And he melts. Brain-dead, baby noises and stupid expressions, he absolutely melts.  _ She’s perfect. _

_ You’re lucky she’s in a good mood,  _ Colee teases, reaching to take back the baby girl.  _ Now come one, we’ve got an awful lot of catching up to do. _

It’s a regular interrogation. There are plenty of repeat questions, but his family is mostly interested in their domestic life. For the most part, they field them easily enough. 

_ Who gave Ethan his haircut? _

Mark, of course, and he learns Ethan’s been notably poor at it in the past.

_ Who’s travelled more? _

That goes to Ethan, Mark plays it off that he just prefers familiar territory.

_ What’s the dumbest mark you’ve won? _

Mark earns this one. There’s a scar on his hand from an incident involving booze and baiting the line for a moonlight fishing session.

_ Who's the better hunter?  _ Catches them off guard, and Mark is quick to say it's him. 

_ Oh whatever!  _ Ethan squeaks over the laughter, and Mark pulls him into a loose headlock. Before they can get out of hand, his mom rushes to the door and herds in a large group of whom can only be Ethan’s family.

They’re armed with various dishes, baskets, and dangerous looking instruments, but it’s thrown aside when they spot the couple. Cheeks are grabbed, thinness disapproved, and hair distastefully inspected. Multiple elders are chattering and whistling at the same time, but Mark gleans that they approve of him.

Andrew comes to the rescue and pulls them aside.  _ I’ll help prepare, take Sella, and give Mark a tour, huh? _

Making an escape, Ethan drags Mark away from his embarrassing relatives. He  _ knows  _ it’s a big deal when someone finds their mate, but did they have to be so grabby? They swim off towards the bedrooms, and he figures Mark will want to see his old room. Passing the older carvings, he shows him the one he made with his brother when they were just teenagers. Sella reaches out with stubby fingers, patting the indents.  _ We wanted to be artists. _

_ And how’d that work out? _

Ethan frowns at the scraggly drawing.  _ Not great. _

His memories are waiting for him in his room. It’s the smallest in their nest, but it’s his. And it’s the same as when he left it. A starry pattern of abstract phytoplankton has grown thick on the ceiling, and they light up as he runs an absent hand over it. He used to lay in bed and wonder if they actually looked like the stars in the sky, and if he’d ever get to see them. Now that he has, it’s not the same. 

The light provides comfort however, and it brings forth all the little pieces of himself scattered around. He shows Mark the comb one of his aunts had made for him, pointing out the way she’d written his name. Mark will need to learn that language soon, and he points out as many letters as he can find. There are some scrawled into the rocky bed frame that say ‘Ethan’s room’, and more above his makeshift desk that read ‘I hate reading’. He was never a fan of schooling. 

For Mark, the room is a bit plain. Most of the decoration comes from the bits of coral and foraged scales stuck to the walls, but something sticks out to him. An iron plank sits above his bed, having seen better days and still deeply inscribed with words he can’t make out. It’s not Ethan’s language, he recognizes the strange letters from an above country.

_ What is this?  _ He asks, tracing the jagged edge of the metal, feeling the grains of rust under his fingers.

_ My namesake, my mom found it when she used to travel, and brought it back with her. She always liked the words. _ Ethan remembers his mom’s stories about her journey from the North, he wished she’d been able to take more with her. He doesn’t speak much of this specific language, but he reads out the words for Mark. 

~~_Unit_~~ ** _e_** ~~ _d_ _Sta_~~ ** _t_** ~~ _es_ _S_~~ ** _h_** _ ~~ip~~ ~~M~~_ ** _a_** ~~ _rine_~~ _~~Sulphur~~ ~~Quee~~_ ** _n_**

What’s there had mostly worn away, but the readable bits his mom had picked up and used as his namesake.  _ My brother’s got one too. _

_ Ethan,  _ Mark hums.  _ It’s a good name. _

He slides in front of him, putting Sella between them and leaning his head forward with a mischievous smile.  _ It was a gift. _

Mark leans in, but is caught off guard by the increase in noise from the passageways. With a groan, Ethan gives him a defeated look.  _ We better go introduce ourselves. _

The party has grown double in size, and Ethan can’t remember making such a big deal when Andrew had mated. He hadn’t seen most of his family in years, but he’s pretty sure there are new faces and neighbors mixed in. If there were any neighbors that weren’t invited, they were definitely going to complain about the noise. 

He’s not sure where to start, so they round back towards the kitchen, squeezing past other traffic and saying polite hellos. Ethan cranes his head over the flurry of movement, trying to see if maybe Andrew and Colee wanted to join in on their reunion tour throughout the nest. One of his uncles spots him first, and angrily waves a stirrer at the three of them.

_ No no no!  _ He gumbles lightly.  _ Food’s not ready yet, don’t spoil your appetites.  _ A pale eye looks Mark up and down.  _ Actually, you come with me. Ubi needs a taste tester. _

_ Wha-no, Mark!  _

Too late does he realize that Mark is being pulled into the flock, and Ethan loses him. Before he can after him, he’s snagged by an elder relative. Her hair is whitened by age, and her voice has the roughness of the ocean. It’s calming, and breaks over the noise.  _ Jeone!  _ He sputters in recognition.

_ Oh my, you remember your Tima then? _

He gives her a half hug, so as not to squish his niece.  _ Of course. I missed you. _

_ You too. Now come hither, I’ve got a whole group wondering where you’ve been.  _ She smiles warmly at Sella, raising an eyebrow.  _ And what you’ve been up too. _

_ I-er-no, no. Tima, this is Andrew’s pup, Sella. _

_ I know that, you seal paw, can’t your Tima have a sense of humor? _

She smiles, every bit as playful as when he had known her. Despite the fear of leaving Mark to his own wits, he’s ushered along to the courtyard, where hasty banners have been strung and people sing and swim. 

There’s an older group awaiting them, made up of relatives and a few of her friends. Their tales flick and flutter when they see him, calling out with rasping whistles. He greets them all politely, and someone is quick to nab Sella, while another great-aunt grabs his head and inspects his hair.  _ Oh my!  _ She squawks.  _ It’ll take so long to grow back! _

_ Neva!  _ Jeone scolds.  _ Let him be, don’t you want to hear his story? _

_ Could we skip the haircut part?  _ She fiddles with the graying braid twisting down her back.  _ I don’t think my heart could take it.  _

Ethan rolls his eyes as subtly as he can. There’s no escaping them now, and a few other curious swimmers have grouped around them as well. Resting his elbows on the rock, he looks down at the rows of people lined up around the arch. Swallowing hard, he begins again.

_ I had been in the area for a while when I first met him…. _

Meanwhile, Mark’s being forcibly stuffed and questioned. It’s not the worst way to go out, and they’re certainly not bad cooks, but he’s currently working on his escape plan. A gaggle of older men hand him a basket of meats, all of which are unidentifiable to him. Someone else toys with his hair, chattering away about how lucky ‘baby Ethan’ must be. 

He seems to meet their approval, and that’s a giant relief. They ask him about his previous colony, and he lies on the spot.  _ I was uh...on my own, a lot. My family didn’t have a colony. _

The matronly figure flutters her hands, tearing up.  _ You poor thing! All alone out there in the wilds, no wonder you’re so strong! _

_ Er, yeah that’s- _

_ And so rugged! What wonderful lines you must have.  _ She pats his cheek, giving him a soft look.  _ What a good man for Ethan.  _

_ Thank you- _

_ And so quiet!  _ She talks away, using her vocal chords while her hands work through his hair.  _ Ethan used to be such a quiet boy, and look at him now. They could hardly get him to settle down for his schooling- _

_ Speaking of Ethan,  _ he interjects,  _ Do you know where he is? _

_ Hm, well, I think I saw him head out through there- _ she points towards a passageway, Mark’s escape,  _ -Why’s that? _

_ Just need to see him _

_ Aw, young love.  _ With a final flick of his hair, she lets him leave the crowded den and take off. He swims past people, some look like Ethan and others seem like neighbors. It’s possible they could be family, there sure seem to be a lot. Parents are outnumbered by at least three or four children, so he’s seen. It’s surprising that Ethan only has one sibling. 

He enters into a large pit of an area. Light streams down from the home grown lanterns, and he can see open water a good meter above him. Around him, guests swim merrily with each other through the few natural arches that divide the area. Some carry extra food, while others hang streamers and coral the little ones. It’s...homey.

Ethan spots him first, taking off from his group to rush to his side.  _ Hey, sorry about tha….What happened to your hair? _

His hands fly to his head, and he realizes small, uneven braids have taken up good chunks of his hair.  _ I got cornered,  _ he admits, tugging at the braids.

Ethan shoos his hands away, working them out himself.  _ I’m glad you found me. My Tima’s friends are too much sometimes, I swear.  _ He shakes his head, a fine blush under his eyes.  _ They want to know if we have any pups yet, ugh. _

There’s a little wheel turning in Mark’s head, spinning with all the cobwebs of information he doesn’t know about mermaids.  _ Can...do you…?  _ He leaves the question open ended, staring with a mildly horrified look.

Ethan’s brows furrow deep into his forehead before he breaks into a giggle.  _ No!  _ He squeaks, smoothing out his hair.  _ That’s not how nature works, silly. _

_ I don’t know! _

There’s another giggle, and he presses his face against Mark’s chest, his shoulders shaking.  _ That’s terrible. No. We- _ he takes in a breath,  _ -Sometimes...parents get separated, and they don’t come back, someone’s gotta take care of the pups. _

_ That’s horrible.  _ Mark looks around at all the children, happy and carefree.  _ They really don’t come back? _

_ It just happens sometimes. It’s a big place, people get sea fever. They wanna travel, or they lose it. _

He hugs the skinny body close to his side.  _ I’d never take off like that. _

_ I’m sure people don’t mean too. Come on,  _ he soothes,  _ it’s a party, don’t gotta think about bad stuff, right? _

_ Right. _

  
  



	28. One of Those Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food, fighting, and family. Perfect party, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This is the second to last chapter, sorry to say. It's been a delight to write this, and although I'll definitely be writing more Unus Annus stuff, this one will be coming to an end.   
> (Also, wrote this while enjoying some cold potato wedges with guacamole, and honestly....it was pretty good...)

It’s finally the two of them, and a tamer group of Ethan’s kin, and of course, it’s soon over. They’ve been giving the fluffy details his great-aunts and grandmothers have been apparently dying to know, and as embarrassing as it is, it’s a normal moment for Mark. He doesn’t get long to indulge in the feeling.

A small group of his rowdier cousins approach them with obnoxious voices and names Mark doesn’t bother committing to memory. They’re all over the place, shoving each other, screeching, and they’re beelining for the both of them. Ethan gives him a sympathetic glance before they go after him first.

The leader, a muscle armed fellow with a bit of pudge around the middle is first to grab at Ethan. He’s got him in a headlock, spinning around and laughing mercilessly. Ethan’s fighting playfully at first, but Mark can see the weird angle his head is at, and the way he’s jerked back and forth rougher than he’d like. There’s a low growl in Mark’s throat, and he realizes too late that it was not silent. Ethan’s tormentor, - _his name started with a C-_ turns sharply to Mark with a dangerous grin on his face.

 _Look at that!_ He crowes, sweeping an arm out to his comrades, who have been forcefully settled by their elders, _Not hardly a scar on him!_

He’s one to talk. The ones he so proudly bears are scratches at best, marking up his forearms and shoulders with confetti shaped tissue. Nothing as impressive as he seems to think. Ethan gets a good up-and-down scan, only making him grin wider. _You been letting my scrawny bo fight for you?_

He bristles, noticing the similar reaction from the others in the group. Not a popular member around here, it seems. _I’m that good,_ he boasts seriously. The confidence does nothing to settle him. Why can’t this guy just leave them alone?

 _Aw, come on!_ He shakes Ethan’s shoulders, and he brushes him off with a dirty look. _You gotta show me what you got! I’ve been hearing about you two all night._

 _Cassion, you stop that!_ A dark haired woman with bright swathes of gray clicks at him. She’s a family friend, he’s learned, and through her rounded face is a maternal authority that he stubbornly ignores.

_Just tryna make sure he’s fit for a mate! He’s family, might as well get to know him_

_By_ _ fighting? _ _You were raised better than that_

He turns to look Mark in the eye, undertones of accusatory nature dripping from the back of his throat. _Mating’s for life, you know._

Mark moves on, ignoring the comment.

For about two seconds. 

He darts towards him, swimming low and heaving the other man over his shoulder. He rams himself especially hard in the gut, knocking the air from his chest and getting him off his guard. When they’re further from the group, Mark tries to push him away and get a good punch to his jaw.

He’s instead met with one himself. His opponent isn’t nearly as strong, but he’s faster than he looks. Mark’s pretty sure his nose is broken, but there’s no time to whine because the claws are out and flying. He avoids a few viscous scratches to his chest, although his forearm takes the blow.

Beyond the primal aggression, he’s well aware he needs to stop. They’re in the middle of a family gathering and wrestling like children. But that doofy fucking _haw haw_ of a laugh he’s got only adds to the ‘Seek and destroy’ pile building up in Mark’s brain.

Ducking down, he grabs the base of his tail, just above the fins, and gives a good yank. When they’re level, he throws an arm around his skinny neck and the other on the back of his head. 

Cassion’s nails dig into the exposed skin of his arm, but he’s restrained himself not to draw blood. Mark holds him tight, restraining himself from not squeezing the life out of the obnoxious brat.

When the scratches turn to frantic pats, he lets him go.

 _La-zzo!_ His hands massage the area of his neck, and Mark is vaguely aware that that’s a curse. He should remember that. _You’ve got a grip there, doncha?_

Mark spent four years in wrestling. It was an easy fight. He nods, but remains silent as they’re flocked by concerned party goers. 

Cassion’s scolded, and Mark’s fawned over, much to his distaste. An older, nearly blind figure pokes at his nose, and Mark swears under his breath. He tries to push him away as politely as possible, but someone else does it for him.

_Ethan, I’m sorry-_

_Your nose,_ he signs with concern.

_Yeah, I know_

_C’mon,_ he tugs him towards the house, _Let’s go._

Mark casts an anxious glance towards the audience. His opponent is in a sorry state, getting chewed out by at least five others. Many eyes watch him, and he has to look away in shame. He meets Ethan’s family and starts a fight, that’s a good sign.

He’s taken into a secluded area from the tunnels that run through a living area. Homemade shelves line the rocky walls where the outcroppings are already filled with various tools and random substances. Ethan digs around hastily, but Mark’s still trying to explain himself.

_I’m-I’m really sorry, Ethan._

There’s a huff from him, little bubbles rising and sticking to the low ceiling. _No...he’s...I don’t know. He’s always been weird. Just can’t believe he punched you in the face._

_I know, right? Thought I’d be able to dodge that_

Ethan’s not amused. Rather than angry, he seems nervous. Saddened. He scoops up a thick paste from a container that looks like an old, dented can. It's heavy, and gray, and Mark knows that if he could smell, it'd be bad. Ethan smoothes it over his nose, inspecting the area with trained fingers.

_What’s wrong?_

_If you’re done, I get it. We can….Well, Tamarron will let us stay us stay at her place if you want_

_What? Does he live here?_

_No! No._ He assures him. _But if you wanna go, I get it._

 _Gotta give me more credit than that,_ he signs before using his hands to grab Ethan’s hips and bring him closer. It hurts to smile, but he does his best. He rests his chin on Ethan’s head, taking in a long breath. The fight had pretty much drained him, he hadn’t seen anyone other than Ethan and now he was swarmed by others. He doesn't ask about whatever the hell's on his nose, there are more important needs right now.

_Wanna get some sleep?_

_Yeah._ Ethan gives him a worn look. _Pretty sure we’re well into the early now._

They’re able to sneak past the majority of the guests, most of which are still bright eyed and indulging themselves in food and conversation. The bed is a tight fit, but Ethan happily makes himself comfortable on Mark’s chest.

He’s a warm little bugger, and surprisingly weighty when he’s not fidgeting around. Still, Mark can’t sleep. There are a million things he wants to know, and all of them are making him anxious.

Ethan has to be able to hear his heartbeat, because he perks up quickly. He’s got that soft look of _Poor Mark,_ and he hates it. He angles his head away from those eyes, but it makes it easier for Ethan to slide up further and into the crook of his neck. The arm that isn’t tucked under his chest reaches up and runs his fingers through the baby hair on the back of his neck.

His fingers are bony and nimble, massaging the area delicately and digging in just right. The gesture is simple, kind, and Mark wants him like this forever.

He wants him when he feels like being alone, when it’s all confusing and miserable. Because no matter how terrible he is at explaining things, he's just _here._ Here for him, no matter what. 

There’s a small part of him that notices Ethan is softly singing to him, but it’s far away and faded with sleep.

* * *

Sleep and wakefulness blend together when they’re like this. 

Mark can feel himself talking and signing, but it’s with dredged consciousness and sore arms. He can feel Ethan against him like a warm blanket, making him fight to keep his eyes open.

He’s testing his vocal chords now. No more rough shrieks and whistles, he wants to be able to speak like they do. For now, he’s asking questions, and nodding off to the answers.

_Do we live here now?_

Ethan hums in response, different notes accounting for words. _Until we get our own nest_

_How do we do that?_

_Save up some currency_

Mark frowns thoughtfully. _What do you guys use?_

_Mostly lava rocks, and barter. Goods n’ services and whatever_

_What kind of ‘services’?_ He waggles his eyebrows, and with a giggle, Ethan buries his face in his chest. 

_We’d be so rich,_ he teases, giving Mark a dopey grin.

 _Not with those bony-ass fingers. God help whoever you-_ He can’t finish the sentence, and Ethan is now losing it. Lack of sleep and Mark’s incredible wit have him spasming and forming teeny bubbles from his gills. They settle down, and eventually Ethan’s out again. Leaving Mark to think.

About how he’s going to find a job.

About his new in-laws.

About how much his nose still fucking hurts.

It’s an adjustment, he knows that. Maybe he can make friends here, and they can go on real dates. He can buy birthday presents at small shops and work on a garden, domestic stuff. Never again will they sleep in cold sand and eat bottom feeders. 

They’ve got a chance at a real life. 

He’s got a chance.


	29. Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing is a process, you never know how things are going to turn out. Mark learns more about stability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wanted to have this done three days ago, and here we are. Thank you to everyone reading this, or will read this, this went longer than I could have ever thought, and I'm so happy so many people enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. Hope everyone has a wonderful Halloween and fall season, thank you for the kudos💝

Ethan’s parents are insistent they don’t help with cleanup. It’s against his better judgement, but he’s happy to have a tour of the colony. It’s a maze, afterall. Thin corridors, long stretches of unreadable signs, and droves of people out and about. Mark may need a second tour.

They get breakfast from a stand with various flora wrapped tight with seaweed.  _ A veggie wrap,  _ he thinks humorously, wondering how much similarity there is here from his old home. 

His better half is chattering away, Mark hasn’t said a real word in a solid twenty minutes, but he doesn’t mind. He’s absorbing...some of the information anyways. He learns there’s a church, and that’s odd because...well, underwater religion. 

Overshadowing it is Ethan. The way he naturally curves around the rocks and drifts in the currents of people, he’s comfortable. Happy. His sentences are coherent and he’s not stuttering, he’s so happy.

And Mark’s happy for him. They’re both home, but why does he have to have that stuck ball of anxiety in his gut?

_ It’s been one day,  _ he reminds himself, shouldering Ethan lightly.  _ Breathe. _

His attention is directed to a shop positioned under two pillars of rock studded brightly with coral.  _ You could work there, you’re smart,  _ Ethan tells him teasingly.

_ Doing  _ _ what _ _? _

_ Are you even paying attention? _

Mark smiles, obnoxiously wide.  _ Of course.  _

He earns a cheek pinch, swatting at Ethan’s bony fingers.

_ Take this seriously! _

_ I am!  _ He promises, making his crossed fingers blatant.

_ Well,  _ Ethan huffs,  _ I was thinking about seeing about working in the fields _

_ Yeah? _

_ Yeah.  _ He shrugs, looking off into the distance. They’ve circled away from the center, swimming along the outer colony.  _ They always need workers.  _

_ Maybe I could hunt _

That seems to pique his interest.  _ Really? _

_ What? _

_ Nothing! Just... _ Ethan shrugs again, wearing a playful smile.  _ It’s harder than you think _

_ Oh c’mon!  _

_ I’m serious! You need to get picked up by a seller, join a pack- _

_ Well, I think I’d be good at it _

Ethan’s hand worms into his, and he’s got that dreamy look in his eyes that borders on stupid.  _ Me too.  _

They’re mushy, and sweet, and it’s embarrassing, but Mark can’t help himself. He’s protected and  _ finally  _ home, they can afford the sentimentalities. 

The weight on his chest lifts for the moment.

* * *

It’s back again when he loses his job.

He quit. Mark wants to make that perfectly clear. The other members of the pack were nice, but that was exactly the issue. Three months he’d worked there and no one had the courage to tell him to his face how horrible he was. 

Net duty was a flop, herding was a miserable affair, and even the extra help from the pack lead didn’t help. Jeygi tried so hard to teach him, and he failed her. He failed everyone. He was a less than average hunter, he could barely provide for his own tiny household, much less a colony. Every day was another day to let down his team, he never learned, he never got better, he was just….bad.

Ethan holds onto him tight, letting him hide his face in the sharp curve of his neck and crumble in the privacy of their own home. He doesn’t cry (not like he can, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing), but he’s miserably quiet as Ethan consoles him.

_ You didn’t fail.  _

Yes, he did. 

_ You tried really hard. _

Not as hard as Ethan, who’d picked up three extra shifts in the outer fields and slept like a corpse. At least he weighed less than the guilt when they slept together.

_ We’ll be okay. _

Ethan takes the day off, curled up next to him like a comforting shadow. He’s trying to be logical, and Mark  _ knows  _ there’s other jobs but he’s  _ failed  _ and that’s what's important here. How can he let Ethan down? Everything he’s done for him and he can’t keep a job. 

_ You weren’t happy,  _ he murmurs, tracing circles with his thumb on Mark’s jaw.

_ We needed the money _

_ I just need you _

_ And food, and a house. Where are we gonna go, huh? _

_ Hey.  _ He lifts his head, propping himself on his elbows and giving him a stern look.  _ I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. _

_ I’m here,  _ he says, running his slim fingers over his chest.

_ I’m here,  _ he says through their kiss.

_ I’m here,  _ he says with a harsh breath, sinking down on Mark’s lap, rising and falling with his chest, his head dropped back. He’s got his hands on his hips, gently holding him as he loses himself. It’s rushed, desperate, wanting. 

Long hours, exhausted nights-it’s been a while. But he’s here, riding out the burning heat in his gut that leaves him gasping and wanting. Just wanting Ethan. His mind leaves him blissfully, freeing him from sullen thoughts clouding him with judgement.

He’s grounded, he’s here. 

Ethan collapses on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs as he’s draped over him and panting. It’s a good weight, a solid pressure against the emptiness hiding under the afterglow. Mark wraps his arms over his back, allowing himself to indulge in the lightness.

* * *

The weight is back again when Ethan gets sick.

It’s not a physical sickness, that’d be easy.

Mark gets word of it when he’s at his job. He actually considers it a chore. Two months of stiflingly pitiful work as a builder have just been running errands masked as ‘important assistant stuff’. His boss is okay, but Mark’s just there to fill the roster and make sure stupidity doesn’t happen. He never gets the chance to even design anything, it’s all preventative measures and carvings.

It’s almost a relief when a break in the monotony comes. If that break hadn’t been another worker telling him his mate collapsed in the fields. 

Vendanya’s there with him, holding him upright and trying to get color back in his cheeks. They were working the outer ring today, the longest collection.  _ He’s exhausted,  _ she tells him, as if he didn’t know.  _ I can get Tamarron out here, just take him home, okay? _

He stammers, hands fumbling and vocal chords trying to fill in where he can’t because he’s not really saying any coherent words.  _ I-uh-wha- Doctor! He needs a doctor- _

_ It’s field sickness.  _ The scars on her hands are telling, the age around her young eyes painfully deep.  _ They can’t help that. _

Word spreads fast. Mark has to swim around the little gifts of food the neighbors left for them, small in size because they’re just as poor as he. It’s only a matter of time before Ethan’s parents get here. They shouldn’t see him like this. Not their son.

He gets some food in him before curling around him and refusing to let him move. His nose is pressed against his head, taking all of him in like he’s fading. And he is. Mark can get his arms around him almost twice, he’s lost weight. Ethan’s been quiet, distracted, listless. How could he have let it get this bad?

_ Why didn’t you say anything?  _ He presses as soon as he knows he’s awake.

_ You like your job _

Mark squeezes him tighter.  _ I thought it’d get better. It’s boring. It sucks. _

_ Why didn’t  _ _ you  _ _ say anything? _

_ I thought it’d get better. _

He quits the next day. No more long hours, no more mindless days. His boss shrugs it off, they can find someone else to do food runs. 

Ethan stays home too. Mark has to force him to be still, and it’s easier when he’s not working. He’ll pick up work when things are stable, and as hard as it is to watch his mate wade through the illness, he’s here. It’s the two of them together, and Mark isn’t going anywhere. Despite the negatives weighing against the door and threatening to break apart their hideaway, when he holds Ethan and can feel him in his arms, he’s lighter.

* * *

Life had been kinder, so it’s a surprise when the weight is back with a suffocating urgency.

He’d been working at the schooling den, and surprisingly, it was perfect. Mark had never thought about teaching, he just needed work and they needed extra hands. But as his coworkers learned of his background, they were incessant about him leading a small language class. It grew from a few extra kids to a full class. And then adults, and then a quarter of the colony. New languages were a treat, and they watched attentively as he carved out the symbols into the shapeable clay.

Improvement came with time, but he fit so well into the role of this leading figure. He liked the way he could reach them, help them, teach them. The hours were good, the pay was….he got paid, that’s the important thing.

Ethan was slow to improve, and he still seemed ever thin, but Vendanya had gotten him set up with a rare field quarter, and that seemed to suit him well. His thin fingers could work through the few and delicate plants without damaging them, and the atmosphere was better for him. Quality over quantity and all that.

They felt firmly stable, they’d even gotten a bigger nest. Affording a night out was no longer a chore, and Mark could spend it without simple concerns rather than the chains of heavy anxiety.

But here it was, the weight.

Brought on by an early return of his old hunting pack, bloodied and bruised they made their way into the protective circle of the colony.

_ We were attacked!  _ Their cries reach out, swarming them with others.  _ Hawkers, after a downed surfacer.  _

The words ignite the surrounding colonists. Rarely do such valuables reach them, and it’s a fight for what’s inside. Mark doesn’t have to hear there were Hawkers, dolphins don’t go after sunken ships. Sharks don't cause those wounds.

They’re unloading their stolen treasures with haste, eager to get back and finish the job. It’s made difficult by the excited squeaks and crowd noise surrounding the dock, and many push through to join them. An attack on colony hunters is an attack to the colony. They’re a pack, a part of the whole. 

Mark can see Jeygi with a bundle she’s holding protective against her breast, but she looks panicked. She’s quick to address the growing number, rising above and looking around wildly.

_ They attacked a pair with a pup!  _ She roars with furious sadness.  _ Killed them just for being close! _

She lifts the bundle up for the crowd, letting everyone see the lone survivor. The chubby arms wave in the water, too young to cry as the discontent grows louder amongst the people.  _ We need carers, please! Anyone! _

The crowd turns quiet, parents burdened with their own young and workers with too little time to spare turn away.

And in his chest, Mark feels an outward weight. It pushes, driving him with a few words that send it tumbling from him.  _ Us!  _ He shouts.  _ We’ll take it! _

He’s quick to be the center of attention, but that doesn’t stop him from waving his free arm and shouting again. There’s a quick squeeze to his hand, Ethan looks scared. But he’s nodding, shouting along with Mark above the hushed whistles and waving his arms.

_ Here! Here! We’ll take it! _

Around them, the whirlwind of retaliation grows and thunders as people take arms. And they’re focused on the little thing that was hastily shoved in Mark’s arms.

She’s little, of course she’d be little but she’s  _ so little.  _ Little hands, nose, ears. Her eyes are big, and they stare up at them with that sweet infant neediness. She cries when Mark readjusts her, and is soothed when Ethan runs a hand through the dark fluff on her head. 

_ We’re right here,  _ he coos.  _ We’re here. _


End file.
